


Don't Wanna Fall Too Far

by i_feel_electric



Category: Big Bang (Band), GTOP (Band), K-pop
Genre: Age Difference, Comedy, Fluff, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Smut, Underage Drinking, self-indulgent pop culture references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-23 15:10:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 82,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3772906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_feel_electric/pseuds/i_feel_electric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jiyong comes home after his first year of college, expecting the suburbs to be just as dull and soul-crushing as he left them. Only life decides to throw him a curveball when his mom hires a landscaping crew for half of the summer. Meaning he’ll be forced to look at a bunch of sweaty, half-naked men covered in dirt almost every single day. Which is something that wouldn’t bother Jiyong all that much if one of them didn’t happen to literally be The Hottest Fucking Guy on the Planet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> hooray for horribly cliche story ideas. except this one ran away from me more than they usually do. sorta slow-build, also there’s an abundance of self-indulgent pop-culture references and some mild drama. these are my warnings.
> 
>  
> 
> endless thanks to emily, kyra, and el for the handholding. never would’ve survived this without you lovely ladies <3

After completing his freshman year of college, Jiyong thinks that coming home for the summer feels a bit like taking a step in reverse. It’s not that he doesn’t love his parents (or the free food and the fact that his mom still does his laundry every Sunday afternoon), it’s just weird. To be back in a place he’s been trying so hard to leave behind. To find that everything is exactly the same, yet he feels like an entirely different person. It’s almost like getting off the train magically erased the last six or seven months from his personal history. He knows the friends he made and the experiences he had aren’t actually figments of his overactive imagination. It’s just something about the suburbs--about returning to what is essentially the starting block of his life--that makes the rest of the world seem too distant. Unreachable. Sort of like it did when he was in high school and all he could think about was a graduation that never wanted to arrive.

 

Needless to say, Jiyong is pretty much at a loss. He’s also bored out of his damn mind and he can’t remember what the fuck he did to pass the time before college happened. Before The Big City happened. Before _life_ happened.

 

Jiyong squints at his phone screen for a long minute, telekinetically willing it to give him the solution to his problem. His problem being that he’s trapped in Pleasantville. Except Tobey Maguire and Reese Witherspoon aren’t here to turn his currently monochromatic existence into vivid technicolor. He sighs and slumps forward over the island counter in their kitchen, nose smushed against cold marble. What’s worse is that it’s Friday night and he’s probably going to spend it in his room staring up at his ceiling fan. Jiyong already misses the stoned 2AM burrito runs with Felix and Erin and Annie and Dave. The gift of public transit, bars that don’t card, and spontaneous dance parties on weeknights. _Why oh why did I come home again?_

 

There’s actually a long list of reasons--most of them involving his utter lack of money--but before Jiyong can start ticking them off in his head as a reminder that he still needs to find a summer job, there are fingers ruffling his hair and the sound of a glass clinking against the counter.

 

“What’s up, buttercup?” his mother asks, her voice painted with its usual parental concern. “It seems like you’re wilting more and more every day.”

 

“Just recovering from finals week, you know how it is,” Jiyong replies easily, pushing up onto his elbows and giving her the most convincing smile in his arsenal.

 

Soo Jin laughs. “Of course I do. Though after all these years I still can’t decide which is more hellish, writing papers or grading them.”

 

“This is why I refuse to follow in your footsteps.”

 

His mother snorts and arches an eyebrow.

 

“Corrupting impressionable, young minds isn’t your cup of tea, huh?”

 

“Well…” Jiyong pauses, his head tilting to the side, and he smirks. “I wouldn’t say that.”

 

This inspires a throaty cackle from Soo Jin, her hands raising in surrender as she backs away.

 

“I don’t even want to know.”

 

“That’s really great,” he replies. “Because I’m never telling you.”

 

In fact, the last thing his mom needs to know about is his burgeoning sex life. She knows he’s gay. Actually everyone pretty much knows he’s gay, but that’s kind of where Jiyong draws the line on sharing. Though if he ever manages to date someone for more than a few weeks, he might be persuaded to reconsider.

 

“Such a sweet boy.”

 

“Your son, remember?” Jiyong points out, sliding off his chair to stand.

 

“And I’ll never forget it.”

 

Soo Jin envelops him in a tight hug and Jiyong smiles into her hair. He supposes there are some things he genuinely missed about home. Mom hugs are definitely one of them.

  
  


 

 

*

  
  


 

 

The constant and incredibly loud buzz of a weed-whacker is what greets Jiyong at way-too-fucking-early in the morning the next day. He tries to fall back asleep and fails because somehow the sound is getting louder and he wonders how that’s even possible. When Jiyong rolls onto his side to glare at the window, he realizes he left it open all night. _At least that explains why my ears are bleeding_. He groans, pulling his comforter tight over his head, but it’s no use. The angry noises of plant-destroying machinery are too powerful and Jiyong is so weak. Eventually he forfeits and crawls out of bed to stumble into the bathroom. Though really, he should be accustomed to rude awakenings at ungodly hours after living in a city for any length of time.

 

Freshly showered and lazily dressed, Jiyong wanders downstairs to the kitchen in search of breakfast. What he finds instead is nothing short of debilitating.

 

“Thank you, Mrs. Kwon. I’m sure the rest of the guys’ll appreciate this.”

 

“Oh, no need to thank me, it’s the least I can do when it’s hotter than Hades outside.” Soo Jin beams at the young man standing in front of her, patting him on the arm in that Super Friendly Mom way that used to make Jiyong cringe.

 

Jiyong isn’t cringing right now, but only because he’s still paralyzed in the doorway, caught in some sort of trance as he watches a dimpled grin appear on the guy’s already impossibly handsome face. He can’t even construct fully-formed thoughts, just variations of _fuck, you’re gorgeous_ and lots of internal whining.

 

The young man huffs out a small laugh, his dark, glittering eyes framed by long lashes and smile lines and Jiyong bites down on his lip as hard as he can. It should be illegal to look that fuckable in a sweaty, dirt-smeared t-shirt and khaki shorts.

 

“Still, thank you.” The man adjusts his hold on the pile of water bottles cradled against his chest and starts migrating towards the glass doors leading to the deck. “We should be out of your hair by three or four today. And I think Alan wanted to discuss the plans for the garden, should I, uh, send him in?”

 

“That would be great, Seunghyun, thanks.”

 

“No problem.”

 

Seunghyun tosses her another bright grin and turns, his gaze falling on Jiyong for the slowest five seconds of his life. He doesn’t even have the brainpower to categorize Seunghyun’s expression, too busy trying to get his stomach to cut it out with the acrobatics. He does, however, notice the way Seunghyun’s eyes give him a brief once-over--the quirk of his pretty, bow-shaped lips as he exits the house and the way those khaki shorts hug the curves of his seriously perfect ass. _Dear lord why_.

 

Jiyong blinks; lets out an unsteady breath.

 

When he finally regains control of his body, he glances down at his bare feet and, with bone-deep horror, remembers that he threw on one of his stupid ratty tank tops covered in holes and mystery stains and _oh god my hair_. Shoving his fingers through the limp, wet strands, Jiyong immediately regrets making the decision to get out of bed today.

 

“I have to say, I’m surprised to see you up this early, Jiyong.”

 

Jiyong’s head jerks up in alarm. He forgot his mother was still here. _Crap_. Can she tell how fucked he is? Because surely his facial features are betraying him just like they always do. Jiyong clears his throat, gesturing vaguely at the backyard, and he mumbles, “Weed-whacker” like it explains everything.

 

Soo Jin nods and then frowns, coming closer to press the back of her hand to his forehead. He tenses at her proximity, afraid that maybe she can smell the future boner on him.

 

“You all right, kiddo? Your face is pretty red.”

 

“Yeah, mom I’m--I’m fine,” Jiyong mutters, pushing her hand away. “It’s nothing.”

 

“Oookay,” Soo Jin sighs. “Your dad’s in the living room, by the way. Go talk to him after you eat.”

 

He executes a quick salute and swallows the feeling of dread rising up from his empty stomach as he walks to the fridge. Choosing the lesser of two evils, Jiyong lets his head fill with thoughts of Unfairly Attractive Landscaping Dude to distract himself from the impending doom of conversing with his father. _And so it begins…_

  
  


 

 

*

  
  


 

 

The “talk” with his dad, if it can even be called that, goes exactly the way he expected it would.

 

_“I‘m only trying to help you, Jiyong.”_

 

_“Your mom and I truly have your best interests at heart.”_

 

_“We worry about you, you know, so far from home. I’d like you to think about it. Put your old man’s mind at ease.”_

 

This is his other problem. Well, it’s the same problem, but this is the other half. And it always comes back to money. _Ugh, I hate money._

 

It’s not that Jiyong isn’t grateful to have supportive, doting parents. Or rather, supportive, doting, wealthy parents. But he’s never wanted to be one of those kids who gets by in life on daddy’s dime. They’ve done so much for him as it is, he should be able to take care of his own shit for once, right? And if he genuinely needs help, he’ll ask for it. Right now, though, Jiyong just needs his dad to trust him. To listen. Is that really so much to ask? He’s honestly starting to believe it might be.

 

Jiyong glares at his bedroom wall from where he’s lying on the floor, carpet stiff and scratchy under his hands. The chorus of yard work is still going strong, filtering in through his open window, and it makes concentration difficult. He almost convinces himself that attempting to think about being productive _actually_ counts as productivity when his phone starts vibrating in his pocket. It’s a text from Nora. Jiyong winces and hates himself for not texting her first.

 

_hey shithead. how long were u_

_gonna wait b4 telling me u were_

_back????_

 

_Easy, drama queen. It’s only_

_been 3 days. I didn’t even know_

_you were here._

 

_so? i think i deserve 2b_

_treated w a little more respect._

_buy me ice cream & maybe_

_i’ll 4give u_

 

_Only if you come pick me up._

_I need your help with something._

_oh so now u need me i c_

_how it is._

_Nora, I’ll buy you an entire_

_ice cream cake if I have to._

 

_must b srs_

_Double chocolate serious._

_jfc alright, i’m omw_

 

Jiyong flops over and presses his cheek into the carpet. At least now he doesn’t have to suffer in silence. He already left Felix a panicked voicemail about the insanely hot (and not at all real) landscaping guy who is currently in his backyard. Probably getting sweatier and dirtier and hotter by the minute. Coward that he is, Jiyong hasn’t dared to look outside again after the kitchen incident. This is why he needs Nora, because Nora will understand. Nora will also make fun of him, but it’s better than the alternative of jacking off in the shower and hoping for the best. Because there is no “best” in this situation, not when Jiyong knows that he has to survive an entire summer of _Seunghyun_ , walking around with his broad shoulders and boyish charm.

 

“God, my life sucks,” Jiyong grumbles into the floor.

 

He doesn’t stand a chance in hell.

  
  


 

 

*

  
  


 

 

“You don’t stand a chance in hell.”

 

“Thank you, Nora, for stating the obvious.”

 

They’re both leaning against the island counter, staring out the large glass windows at the expanse of green that makes up the Kwon’s property. Members of the landscaping crew are scattered all over the yard, baking under an unforgiving sun. Nora side-eyes him and takes a sip from her can of cherry Coke.

 

“Hey, I just figured it needed to be said out loud.”

 

Jiyong runs a hand through his hair (hair that thankfully no longer resembles a wet dog) and heaves the most pathetic sigh. Just beyond the edge of the deck he can see Seunghyun kneeling in a wide patch of dirt, placing slabs of stone in whatever formation his mother instructed him to. Seunghyun’s shirt clings to his body, sweat beading on his skin and dripping from his furrowed brow. The defined muscles of his back shift beneath the damp fabric and Jiyong restrains a full-on whimper.

 

He shouldn’t be doing this.

 

Not because he thinks he’s being a creep (which he absolutely is), but because it’s making everything so much worse. Jiyong chews on his lip and follows the lines of Seunghyun’s tanned arms and the droplets of perspiration that wind down his face--follows his beautiful, long, dirt-caked fingers as they push at loose earth and swipe at the back of his neck, leaving streaks of rich brown. _Clearly you were sent here to destroy me_.

 

“So what the fuck am I supposed to do?” he asks, verging on desperate.

 

Nora shrugs. “I dunno, bone him? That’s what I’d do. Y’know, if I was a fan of dicks.”

 

“But what if he’s straight?”

 

She hums thoughtfully and plays with the tab on her Coke can, bending it back and forth until the metal weakens and breaks.

 

“You said he sorta checked you out earlier, yeah? That’s gotta count for something.”

 

“Maybe he thought I was a prepubescent girl,” Jiyong murmurs wryly.

 

He’s only half-joking, but it results in Nora almost choking on her next sip. She smacks him in the arm.

 

“Dude, gross,” Nora laughs while shaking her head, unruly black curls swaying as she does.

 

Jiyong’s mouth twitches and he nudges into her with his shoulder. Quiet settles over the kitchen. He listens to the metallic clink of Nora’s Coke can hitting the counter and pretends not to see Seunghyun stretch his arms above his head, then slick dark hair away from his eyes. It’s like watching softcore porn. Or a Jane Austen adaptation. And Jiyong is suddenly very thankful that his mother never went all out and installed a massive pond in their yard.

 

“Why are you so convinced he wouldn’t be into you, anyway?” Nora interrupts his Darcy fantasies, appearing both resolute and curious when she turns to look at him.

 

His mouth falls open, but he’s not sure what to say. _Shouldn’t it be obvious?_ Jiyong has always been sort of wiry and small and unexceptional. Why would someone like Seunghyun spare him a second glance?

 

He lifts one shoulder slightly, not sure if he’s actually shrugging or curling in on himself.

 

“Because Greek gods never are.”

 

Nora steps in front of him, her palm held out and a thick eyebrow raised sharply. “ _Easy, drama queen_ ,” she drawls, parroting his text from earlier. Jiyong laugh-snorts.

 

“Yeah, yeah, shut up.”

 

“Y’know, you shouldn’t be afraid to give yourself some more credit, Ji.” Nora’s expression turns soft. “A little confidence goes a long way. And you are, hands down, the cutest fucking twink I know.”

 

“I’m the only twink that you know.”

 

“Exactly.” She flashes him a big grin and then tugs on the hem of his shirtsleeve. “So can we go get ice cream now?”

 

Jiyong rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. Can’t help it. Nora has never been shy when it comes to her one true love: food.

 

“Do you wanna get high first? I have some that I brought back with me.”

 

“Yesss! You are seriously the best, I’m so glad that we’re friends.”

 

“Only because you know you can use me for weed and frozen dairy products,” he teases, herding Nora out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

 

“Ohhh hey, maybe we should go to that fro-yo place by the mall instead.”

 

“Whatever Nora wants.”

 

“Nora wants fro-yoooo,” she declares, one fist held high. Jiyong just shoves her into his room and shuts the door.

 

He decides childhood friends can go on the list, too.

  
  


 

 

*

  
  


 

 

As the days unfold, Jiyong treads very carefully. Or tries to. It’s kind of a challenge when the kitchen and the downstairs bathroom have basically been commandeered by a bunch of strange, sweaty men. Felix demanded a video of said sweaty men in action, but Jiyong doesn’t have the balls, even from the relative safety of his second-story window. Felix also told him that “ _these scenarios don’t grow on trees, Jiyong. You need to accept the fact that your life has now become a summer rom-com and I think you should gracefully step up to the plate as leading lady_.”. To which Jiyong merely sighed and wondered what he did to deserve such unhelpful companions.

 

What’s also unhelpful is that, during the week, he’s usually the only one at the house in the afternoon. Meaning Jiyong has to field all the questions from Alan and his crew that he can’t answer. What the fuck does he know about building a garden? Jack shit, that’s what. And the most frustrating part is that his mom keeps neglecting to tell him anything useful. So he sits there at the island counter in the kitchen on his laptop and sulks. Because he still hasn’t found a job. He still doesn’t know how to respond to the strange, sweaty men. And Seunghyun is still obnoxiously hot. This summer sure is shaping up to be _really_ awesome.

 

“Hey...” A deep baritone interrupts Jiyong’s moping and he startles, head peeking over the top of his computer screen. “Jiyong, right?”

 

It’s Seunghyun (because of course it’s Seunghyun), moving to stand on the other side of the counter, practically _glistening_ from all the hours spent outside. Jiyong gulps and fidgets in his seat at hearing his name come out of _that_ mouth. It’s quite a nice mouth. The kind he’d like to say hello to with his own mouth (and maybe a few other things) a hundred times or more.

 

His brain tells him to stop leering, so he looks elsewhere, instantly distracted by the sharp cut of Seunghyun’s jaw and the long neck it’s attached to. He thinks about maybe licking the salt from Seunghyun’s skin and what it would--

 

“Jiyong?”

 

“I-- what?” Jiyong snaps to attention, catching Seunghyun’s steady gaze, and blushes so hard he can feel the burn in his cheeks. “Sorry.”

 

Seunghyun’s incredibly nice mouth tugs at one corner and lifts into a half-smile. An amused half-smile. Which means _he knows_. Can a blush reach all the way to your internal organs? Jiyong is relatively certain he’s just achieved that.

 

“It’s cool.” Seunghyun licks his lips and glances away. “Is your mom around? Alan needs her for something before we head out.”

 

Tongue. _Tongue_. Jiyong breathes through his nose and attempts to remember the question.

 

“Um…no?”

 

This earns him a chuckle.

 

“You don’t sound very convinced of your answer.”

 

He’s about to try again, but he knows he can’t maintain eye-contact without losing his train of thought, so he looks down at the countertop instead. Which is a mistake, because Seunghyun’s large, amazing, beautiful hands are resting against the marble edge, nails dirt-caked and lovely. He’s just beginning to imagine how they would feel pressing into his skin when Seunghyun clears his throat. _Jesus christ focus, Jiyong_. He squeezes his eyes shut briefly to find even a molecule of zen to get himself through this.

 

“I mean, no, she isn’t. She’s teaching a summer course at the university, she didn’t tell you?”

 

“I’m sure she did, but Alan does this. Forgets things.” Seunghyun exhales a tired breath, hands moving to his hips. “Shit,” he mutters.

 

“She’ll be back in a couple hours. I don’t know if that helps.”

 

Peeking up at Seunghyun from under his bangs, Jiyong finds him shaking his head.

 

“We’re leaving in a little bit.”

 

“Oh,” he says quietly. “Sorry.”

 

Seunghyun offers him a tight smile, one hand reaching up to rub the side of his neck. “Not your fault.”

 

He nods. The pause in conversation ( _how are we having a goddamn conversation_ ) stretches thin as the seconds pile up. Jiyong’s eyes flit from Seunghyun’s face to the smudges on his clothes to the rest of the kitchen and back again.

 

Well they were having a conversation. He’s not sure what the fuck they’re doing right now, and the gentle, whirring hum of the refrigerator only accentuates the fact that no words are being exchanged. Jiyong fidgets again, playing with one of the bracelets on his wrist. He can feel Seunghyun staring at him and every time their eyes meet it’s like having his heart clenched in someone’s fist.

 

“I, um,” Seunghyun starts, fingers tapping rhythmically on the counter. “I guess I should get going then.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Jiyong notes that Seunghyun makes no moves to actually leave. Maybe he’ll go if Jiyong throws something at him. Anything to put an end to what has easily been one of the more awkward moments in his life.

 

“Thanks.”

 

 _Why are you thanking me?_   Jiyong’s eyebrows slam together. “You’re welcome?”

 

Laughing, Seunghyun inches backwards to the sliding doors, dirty fingers buried in messy hair and hips swaying with each step. The smile on Seunghyun’s lips is so charming Jiyong wants to claw his own eyes out.

 

“See you around, Jiyong.”

 

“Uh-huh,” he sort of grunts, then proceeds to mash his face into his keyboard the minute Seunghyun is finally gone.

  
  


 

 

*

  
  


 

 

Participating in the sacred act of Wake and Bake isn’t a thing Jiyong does all that often, least of all alone. But something about the gray light pushing through his curtains the next morning has him doing it anyway. It’s not like his parents care. They’re both reformed hippies, though his mom only _sort of_ made it through that process before giving up somewhere in the middle. You’d think this would be a good thing, except half the time she can’t decide what she wants to be: the free-spirited mom who encourages him to do whatever the hell he wants, or the mom who can’t quite let go of her conservative roots. It’s enough to give him whiplash sometimes.

 

Jiyong rubs at his eyes and throws his comforter off--feet planted on the carpet and a weight on his shoulders he could really do without, thanks. He’s not in the mood to deal with life today. And when he eventually stands and goes to the window, it seems like today isn’t particularly in the mood to deal with it, either. _How depressing_. Jiyong perches on the windowsill, bowl in one hand and lighter in the other as he peers at the thick rain clouds overhead. It hasn’t actually started raining yet, but it’s going to. Jiyong wonders if that means the landscaping crew will go home early.

 

He takes a hit, holding smoke in his lungs until he can’t anymore. The yard is devoid of humans, but the trucks are still here, and he can’t hear anything except the wind pushing against the glass when he closes his eyes. _Did I miss the apocalypse or something?_ Exhaling another thick puff of smoke, Jiyong sits there in the eerie quiet until he achieves a state a fuzziness he can work with, only leaving his room to hunt down something he can put in his stomach.

 

The problem, however, is that he’s too busy concocting the perfect breakfast in his mind to register the voices. Voices that are definitely originating from the kitchen, but he doesn’t realize this until he’s already standing in the middle of the room and _oh...shit_. His mother is there, huddled at the island counter with Alan and some of the other crewmembers while they discuss things Jiyong isn’t comprehending at all.

 

 _Maybe if I pretend I’m invisible they won’t notice me_.

 

He starts moving towards the fridge, food being far more important than anything else at the moment. Except maybe Seunghyun, who’s not listening to the conversation because he’s staring at Jiyong; watching him over the cluster of bent heads. Jiyong notices that Seunghyun’s eyes dip lower, taking in the rumpled shirt he was wearing yesterday and his faded boxers that (naturally) have little cartoon dinosaurs all over them. He also notices how Seunghyun seems to be entertained by this, judging by the smirk on his forever stupidly handsome face. And when their gazes meet again, Jiyong doesn’t even have the brainpower to be mortified.

 

Clearly he is _way_ more stoned than he thought he was.

 

“You can take care of that, right Seunghyun?” Alan’s loud voice cuts through the room, but gets no immediate answer. “Seunghyun?”

 

Jiyong can’t reign in his snort as Seunghyun jerks his attention back to the papers spread out on the counter.

 

“Sorry, Alan.” Seunghyun coughs into his fist and spares Jiyong a lightning quick glance. “What was the question?”

 

Alan heaves a sigh, accompanied by a chuckle or two from one of the other guys, and he tunes everything out again. He doesn’t need to know about bulb types and fertilizer, he only needs to know where the goddamn blender is because shit is about to get real. From the fridge, he grabs the milk. From the freezer, a tub of vanilla ice cream. From the pantry, his box of Cap’n Crunch. And lastly, he walks around the island counter, coming up beside Seunghyun to reach for two bananas from the basket of fruit. Seunghyun looks down at him, appearing adorably puzzled with his furrowed brow and twitching lips. Though it should be setting off all manner of warning bells in Jiyong’s head that they’re standing inches apart. He can feel Seunghyun’s body heat, too, which adds another layer of fuzz to his already fluffy brain.

 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Soo Jin says, drawing his focus away from twinkling brown eyes.

 

Jiyong gives her a dopey smile. “Morning, mom.”

 

He knows she knows that he’s stoned out of his gourd when she squints at him and then tries not to laugh. Lucky for him, his mom has chosen to be awesome today, and he’s infinitely grateful that she doesn’t comment on it--instead turning to Alan to continue discussing Mega Important Garden Things. Jiyong offers Seunghyun a dopey smile as well and proceeds to get back to business.

 

Finding the blender in one of the cabinets under the sink, he plugs it in and fills a third of it with ice cream. Then in goes the milk and the bananas and probably way too much cereal, but whatever, it’ll still be great. He’s high. Everything is great. Jiyong puts the lid on and flicks the switch, wincing when the harsh sound grates against his ears. He chances a look behind him and now everyone else in the room is staring. But Seunghyun and his mom are the only ones who seem to think it’s funny and not annoying.

 

“Sorry,” he calls over the noise before shutting it off.

 

Alan releases another sigh, not bothering to mask his irritation. “As I was saying…”

 

Jiyong rolls his eyes. _Prick_. Tossing the lid in the sink, he slouches back against the counter and holds the jar with both hands, lifting it to his lips and taking a long, slow gulp.

 

He doesn’t really _mean_ to moan loudly in unadulterated bliss, it just sort of...happens. And the way all six heads in the center of the room turn in unison to gape at him has Jiyong cracking the fuck up. _Oh my god, your faces_. Alan’s expression of indignation is priceless, but it’s Seunghyun’s that takes the cake--mouth parted in a smile that isn’t sure if it wants to be amused or surprised or something else. Jiyong is attempting to figure out what that something else is when his mom approaches and sweeps his hair away from his forehead.

 

“Jiyong, why don’t you go into the living room, okay?”

 

“Uh-huh.” He giggles, cradling the blender jar to his chest as he shuffles out of the kitchen and tries to remember what oxygen is.

 

The first thing Jiyong does when he parks it on the couch is text Nora , telling her that Seunghyun now has intimate knowledge of what he sounds like in bed. Her response is a full page of keysmash, but he can't even begin to translate it because he's actually crying from laughing so hard.

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

*

  
  


 

 

_So, have you fucked him_

_yet?_

Jiyong’s mouth falls open in an awed grin. He really has to hand it to Felix for being so delightfully blunt.

_What, you think I’m gonna_

_win him over in 48hrs are_

_you delusional?_

_It worked for Cinderella._

_Cinderella had a fairy_

_godmother._

_My license to practice magic_

_was revoked last month,_

_times is tough._

_I’m disappointed in you._

_Same, bro._

_Now stop talking to my sorry_

_ass and go seduce the hired_

_help._

 

Jiyong cackles. “So inappropriate,” he mumbles to himself.

 

“What’s inappropriate, sweety?”

 

Soo Jin sweeps into the kitchen, arms laden with a fresh batch of water bottles for the landscaping crew.

 

“My idiotic friends.”

 

“Ahh.” She smirks. “Glad to hear you’re keeping such good company.”

 

 _Oh, if you only knew_. Wedging his phone back in his pocket, Jiyong returns his attention to his laptop screen and scowls at Job Application #8. He wonders how many he’s going to fill out before surrender becomes his only option.

 

And speaking of surrender…

 

“Afternoon, Mrs. Kwon,” Alan greets as he enters from the sliding doors, flanked by Seunghyun and two more crewmembers Jiyong’s never met.

 

The room is quick to fill with his mother’s happy chirping and Alan’s booming Santa Claus laughter, even though he resembles an aging Ken doll more than Saint Nick. Jiyong hunches over his computer and prays he blends in with the decor. If he never experiences another hearty back-slap or Alan’s silent judgment, it’ll be too soon.

 

“Hey.”

 

Jiyong clenches his jaw and lifts his head, giving Seunghyun a blank look because not controlling his facial features is only a recipe for humiliation. He congratulates himself when staring into his eyes doesn’t immediately lead to heart failure.

 

Though the guy doesn’t make it easy to avoid having a heart-attack, standing there in his usual flimsy, sweat-soaked work shirt and khaki shorts, nibbling on his bottom lip. Seunghyun raises his eyebrows in what appears to be uncertainty. And when no more words are forthcoming, Jiyong mirrors the eyebrow raising to spur him on. He prays it has nothing to do with his brief vocal performance from yesterday.

 

“Um...” Seunghyun comes nearer, like he’s about to share a secret. “Is there another bathroom I can use?”

 

 _Thank god_. Jiyong nods, relieved for all of three seconds when he reminds himself where said bathroom is located. He snaps his laptop shut with jittery fingers and tucks it under his arm.

 

“Sure. Upstairs.”

 

There are, in fact, two bathrooms, but one of them belongs to his parents. The other? Well, the other is his, and getting to it actually involves walking _through_ his room. Which means Seunghyun is going to pass by the bed that he sleeps in every night. And possibly even look at it. The same bed where he’s already had several graphic and incredibly detailed sex dreams. _Someone please tell me why this is my life_. Jiyong releases a slow breath and trudges up the stairs with the primary donor to his spank bank in tow.

 

“Oh, I didn’t realize…” Seunghyun trails off, having figured out where they are.

 

“It’s not a big deal.” Except that it totally is. Jiyong refrains from flailing and points to the door in the far left corner. “In there.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

And now he has the image of Seunghyun disappearing into his bathroom burned into his retinas. Jiyong can think of a few other scenarios that involve looking at Seunghyun’s sweaty back. Really, he can think of countless scenarios, but now isn’t exactly the time. Resigned, Jiyong leaves his laptop on his desk and goes to sit on the windowsill while he waits.

 

His room is austere compared to how it was when he was in high school. Bare walls, almost no furniture. It used to be an explosion of...stuff. Anything that could be taped or pinned to a flat surface, was. Concert tickets, photographs, cafe receipts, grocery lists, postcards, magazine articles, shitty drawings from the margins of his school notebooks, song lyrics. There were stupid toys everywhere. Stuffed animals, knick-knacks, crap he found on vacations and school trips. It was painfully juvenile. Something Jiyong is trying very hard not to be. He wonders if Seunghyun will think he’s odd.

 

 _I_ am _odd_.

 

He scoffs at himself and stares, unseeing, at the dull blue carpet. Then the bathroom door clicks loudly and he’s dragged back to reality. Reality being his wet dream come true wandering over to him, hands jammed in his pockets, and a determination on his face that has Jiyong pressing his back more firmly against the window pane.

 

“So...” Seunghyun’s voice is low, his smile timid and almost self-conscious as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “You spend a lot of time in the kitchen.”

 

A sharp laugh propels itself from Jiyong’s mouth. _Maybe I’m not the odd one here_. “Do you have a problem with that?” he asks.

 

“No.” Seunghyun inches closer and his smile widens. “I dunno, most kids like hiding away in their rooms. I always did.”

 

“My room doesn’t really feel like mine anymore. And I’m not most kids.”

 

“So I’m learning,” Seunghyun murmurs.

 

 _Are you flirting with me?_ Jiyong finds the courage to study Seunghyun for a moment, the curve of his lips and the humor in his eyes telling him the answer is probably yes. This realization sends an odd thrill directly to his center. Like the butterflies gnawed a tunnel right through him instead of hanging out for a while and making him nauseous.

 

The fact that Seunghyun’s concentration lingers, gaze heavy on Jiyong’s face, is more than he’s capable of dealing with and his courage leaks out of him just as swiftly as it arrived. He could use a drink. Multiple drinks. Alcoholic ones with no mixers and no ice. _Jesus, I need to get out of here_.

 

In his haste to do so, Jiyong stands up too fast, losing his balance, and next thing he knows there’s a strong hand gripping his arm.

 

“Easy.”

 

He swallows roughly, eyes flicking up to Seunghyun’s and _holy mother of god you’re touching me_. Suddenly the air around him is oppressive in its warmth; Jiyong too flustered and definitely not okay, not with Seunghyun so tangible and there. He can even smell him--the unmistakable scent of damp earth mingling with his body odor. Jiyong wants to bury his face in Seunghyun’s chest. But that would be super weird.

 

“W-we should, um, we should...go,” he says in a near whisper.

 

Seunghyun’s hand slides down his arm to cup his elbow briefly and Jiyong’s breath catches at the skin-on-skin contact. At the feeling of calloused fingers grazing hard bone. _Fuckfuckfuck_. He doesn’t know what to do in this situation. Doesn’t know what to do with the way Seunghyun is looking at him. _Has been_ looking at him. So he just focuses on dark, dark eyes and _not_ the full lips he’s spent so many hours fantasizing about.

 

“Right.” The word rumbles out of Seunghyun gravel-thick and he blinks once, his grip falling away.

 

Jiyong thinks he feels woozier now than he did after the headrush. It makes forward motion an issue, but he does manage to walk through his door and down the stairs, floating around his house on autopilot. The kitchen is distressingly empty and he’s hyper-aware of Seunghyun’s presence behind him as he opens a cabinet to find a glass, filling it with water. Jiyong refuses to turn around until he’s consumed at least half of it, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

 

“Is it cool if I grab some waters for the road?” Seunghyun asks from a distance that is much smaller than he was anticipating.

 

Jiyong coughs and nods. “Knock yourself out.” He waves at the fridge with a grimace, stumbling over his words. “Not- not literally, I mean.”

 

Seunghyun tosses him a look, his smile revealing those cute as hell dimples. “I know.”  

 

 _Of course you know_. He threads his fingers into his hair and pinches his lip between his teeth, staring intently at the floor. Jiyong decides he’s going to ask Seunghyun to dig him a hole so he can crawl inside of it and never come out ever again.

 

“What were you watching yesterday morning, by the way? I could hear it from the kitchen.”

 

_Or we can keep talking, that works._

 

“Something narrated by David Attenborough. I, um, I can’t remember which doc, they all kind of blur together after a while.”

 

Placing five bottles on the counter next to the sink, Seunghyun shuts the fridge and leans against it, arms crossed loosely over his chest. Jiyong ignores the way it makes his biceps more prominent.

 

“I’m sure the weed helped.”

 

“Ahh,” he chokes out an awkward laugh, mumbling, “Yeah, that was kind of obvious, wasn’t it.”

 

Seunghyun nods slowly and grins. “Though Alan had no idea, he’s generally pretty clueless about shit like that. The rest of us thought it was hilarious.”

 

Oh, _fantastic_. Jiyong presses a hand to his cheek and he laughs again. At this rate he’s going to set the house on fire.

 

“Glad to be of service.”

 

He must be broadcasting his embarrassment loud and clear, because the way he’s being smiled at is alarmingly sweet. It’s too much and Jiyong wants to pull his shirt up over his face so Seunghyun can’t look at him anymore. _You’re terrible, I hate you_. Jiyong is still a big fat liar.

 

“So what are you always doing on your computer?” Seunghyun continues with the random line of questioning.

 

“Applying for jobs,” he answers, spinning one of his bracelets around his wrist. “It’s not going super well.”

 

“You need a job?”

 

Jiyong frowns at the skeptical tone of Seunghyun’s voice. “Yes? Why is that a surprise?”

 

“Your dad’s brand new Mercedes S600 made me assume you didn’t need one.”

 

 _Wow_. He snorts. “Well you assumed wrong. Dad’s money, dad’s car. Jiyong has no money, therefore Jiyong has no car. Simple.”

 

The knot between Seunghyun’s brow intensifies and Jiyong imagines his isn’t much better. This is the most tired topic of conversation regarding his non-stereotypical “rich kid” life. Which apparently surprises the shit out of way too many people. Jiyong really hates that he has to explain himself, but everyone sees what they want to see, even Seunghyun, who keeps prodding anyway.

 

“But what about school?”

 

“My parents don’t pay for school,” he answers, hackles rising despite his efforts to chill out.

 

“Huh.”

 

This seems to confound Seunghyun on a deep level and Jiyong takes a step towards him, not really angry, but insulted enough to feel the need to defend himself. He inhales quickly, voice quiet yet controlled as he folds his arms, mirroring Seunghyun again.

 

“Y’know, just because they’re well-off doesn’t mean I’m some spoiled brat with shiny toys and a trust fund.” Jiyong hugs himself a little tighter and his words turn a little sharp. “I worked really fucking hard to get into college without anyone’s help and I plan on finishing the exact same way.”

 

All right, maybe he is a bit angry. And maybe Jiyong shouldn’t be taking his lifelong frustration out on Seunghyun, if the genuine guilt creeping onto his face is anything to go by. Is he a dick? He might be a dick. But at least he wasn’t the one jumping to conclusions based on luxury sedans and opulent landscaping plans. Jiyong is not his parents.

 

Seunghyun’s mouth falls open and his arms drop to his sides, his own cheeks pink in embarrassment now. “I didn’t--”

 

But he gets cut off, the sliding door whooshing faintly as one of his crewmembers from earlier darts inside.

 

“There you are, man. C’mon, we’re done for today, Alan’s waiting.”

 

“Jiyong, I’m--”

 

“It’s fine. Go,” Jiyong cuts him off this time, wearing a tight smile and not really meeting his gaze despite Seunghyun’s attempts to catch it.

 

After a beat, Seunghyun sighs and Jiyong watches him pick up the water bottles in silence, trailing after his coworker with tense shoulders and heavy feet. _Well done_. The glass door slides shut. Jiyong thinks that probably should’ve gone a bit differently, and he walks out of the kitchen feeling like a total asshole.

  
  


 

 

*

  
  


 

 

Despite their strange little non-argument, Jiyong ends up dreaming about Seunghyun for the next three days in a row. Horrible, perfect, and achingly realistic dreams where his subconscious acts out his desires in life-ruining HD.

 

Seunghyun taking him from behind, Jiyong’s forehead pressed against his bedroom wall with his back arched and his legs spread wide, those magnificent hands digging into his hips and Seunghyun’s teeth making his skin bloom with red.

 

Jiyong on his knees in the shower with Seunghyun’s cock in his mouth and Seunghyun’s hands tugging roughly on his hair; the sound of water hitting the tub basin overlapping with the sound of Seunghyun moaning his name.

 

Their legs tangled up in sheets that become grass. Seunghyun kissing him into pillows that become beds of dirt; kissing him until his entire body is warm and soft and pliant. This dream happens more than once, always ending with them sprawled out in his backyard, Seunghyun’s arms locked tight around his waist. It’s so depressingly fucking pleasant that Jiyong usually wakes up feeling sad instead of satisfied.

 

It’s also the only interaction he’s had with Seunghyun, imaginary though it may be. Because Jiyong refuses to talk to him. Avoids him, more specifically--hiding away in his room just like he’s _supposed_ to. He acknowledges that this is pointless and stupid. And that he’s being a child, which he hates.

 

Jiyong is smart. But excelling at interpersonal relationships has nothing to do with intellect.

 

Lucky for him, the friends he does have seem to think he’s not a total waste of their time, as made abundantly clear by Nora, who decided to invade his space so completely it’s almost like having a new roommate.

 

“Do you think Seunghyun likes pizza?” she asks, face squished up against the window and a greasy, half-eaten slice of pepperoni in one hand.

 

“What kind of question is that? Who doesn’t like pizza?”

 

Jiyong’s spread out on his back with the delivery box balanced on his stomach, palms caressing the rough fibers of the carpet absently. They smoked a bowl earlier, which was an excellent idea. Now he doesn’t feel so moody.

 

“Maybe you should bring him some.”

 

“Hell no.”

 

Nora turns away from the window to waggle her eyebrows at him. “But he’s probably hungry after all that bending over.”

 

 _Please don’t_. Jiyong whines, shoving the pizza box onto the floor, and rolls over.

 

“Let him starve,” he groans into the crook of his arm.

 

“What a grinch.” Nora kicks gently at his head, her toes poking his cheek. Jiyong chuckles and smacks her leg to make her stop.

 

“I don’t like sharing.”

 

“You’re sharing with me.”

 

“Nora is special.”

 

“Damn right Nora’s special,” she says, laughing. But her amusement quickly turns into something else. “Ohhhoho, _damn_.”

 

Jiyong twists his neck to look at her. She’s staring out the window with an expression he can only label as impressed. “What?”

 

“What do you mean ‘what’?”

 

“What happened?”

 

“I’m not telling,” Nora taunts, and her lips curl up at the corners in a secretive smile.

 

“Noraaa.” He rolls over onto his back again, limbs askew as he glares at her upside down.

 

“Nuh-uh,” she mumbles around a mouthful of pizza and shakes her head. “Not until you go talk to him. You’ll thank me when you do.”

 

“But--”

 

“Dude, no buts.” Nora’s eyes light up and she giggles, taking another bite. “Well, yeah, _butts_ ,” she continues, glancing pointedly out at the backyard.

 

“I’m so confused.”

 

“You wouldn’t be if you went downstairs already.”

 

“But Seunghyun,” he whines again.

 

“Who you owe an apology,” Nora reminds him sternly.

 

“Hey, he owes me one too.”

 

Jiyong pouts, letting his arms flop out on the floor. He really doesn’t want to move right now, perfectly content to remain here in his peaceful, Seunghyun-free bubble. But Nora has a point, he does need to apologize. And maybe the fact that he’s stoned is actually a good thing and he won’t make a fool out of himself a second time. _Wishful thinking, jackass._

 

Nora’s hand pushes at his shoulder. “Whatever, just go down to the kitchen. And hurry up,” she commands, forcing his body into an upright position.

 

“Why am I hurrying?” Jiyong asks, scrubbing at his face as he crawls over to the bed to help himself stand. He sways a little and ruffles his hair, readjusting his shirt and hiking his jeans up.

 

“Oh my god, you look fine. GO. NOW.”

 

He jumps when she yells, narrowing his eyes and grumbling a cranky, “Jesus, okay, I’m going.”

 

Going? Yes. Hurrying? Not so much. Jiyong grips the bannister on the stairs to keep himself steady, out of sorts now that he’s vertical and no longer within the safety of his bedroom. The rest of the house feels overly large as a result--strange and silent until he rounds the corner into the kitchen and collides with something that is definitely moving and not a wall. _What the--_

 

“Jiyong,” a familiar voice states, and he realizes there are a pair of wide hands on his shoulders.

 

When he takes a step back, he is 100% not prepared for what he sees.

 

“Whoa...tank top,” Jiyong croaks, hooded eyes glued to an exposed collarbone and toned arms and patches of sweat soaking through light gray fabric.

 

“What?”

 

But Jiyong isn’t listening. He’s mesmerized by what he can see under the tight material hugging Seunghyun’s lean frame. So mesmerized that he can’t control the urge to reach out and touch. Jiyong’s fingers connect with the solid planes of Seunghyun’s chest for all of three seconds before a much larger hand wraps around his and draws it away.

 

“Jiyong are you…are you high?” Seunghyun laughs and the sound is so lovely. Was it always this lovely? Jiyong wants to make it happen again.

 

“Yep,” he answers with a single nod and a slight giggle, head lolling back to meet Seunghyun’s too intense gaze.

 

“Of course you’re stoned when I’m about to apologize,” Seunghyun murmurs.

 

Jiyong feels the grin on his face, feels the ache in his cheeks from how big it is. He can also feel the warmth of the fingers that haven’t let go of his. _You’re holding my hand_. And that brings the butterflies back, except the flutter in his stomach isn’t nauseating it’s...good. Really good.

 

Seunghyun returns his grin, those smile lines crinkling at the edges of his eyes as he huffs another soft laugh.

 

“And I am sorry, you know, for what I said the other day. That was...a really shitty thing to do.”

 

His grin falters. “Yeah, it was.”

 

“It’s just--” Seunghyun pauses, the hand on Jiyong’s shoulder slipping lower, his fingers curling tighter like he wants Jiyong to understand just how much he means it. “This is gonna sound awful, but...after three years of working jobs for people with money, it’s easy to think you have them all figured out when they never challenge your preconceptions. So, thank you. For pulling my head out of my own ass.”

 

Jiyong laughs. He’s going to be officially fucking upset if Seunghyun turns out to be not just unfairly attractive, but unfairly intelligent as well. He doesn’t even know how old Seunghyun is. Did he go to school? Is he still in school? Where? What does he study? Jiyong almost loses himself to the internal barrage of questions, but then Seunghyun squeezes his hand, just a little bit, and it jolts him back to the present.

 

“I, uh, I didn’t mean to snap at you, either,” Jiyong mumbles.

 

“It’s okay.”

 

His eyes flicker along the contours of Seunghyun’s face and his smile turns rueful. “It’s not, actually. But it happened. And I’m sorry.”

 

Seunghyun bobs his head slowly, concentration unwavering. He’s giving Jiyong _that look_ again and it brings a fresh wave of nerves crashing down around him.

 

“Apology accepted.”

 

“Good.”

 

Gnawing on his lip, Jiyong peers up at Seunghyun, his conscience pounds lighter than it was a few minutes ago. He notices, belatedly, how intimate they must seem huddled close like this in the doorway and it sort of freaks him out. So he takes another step back, leaning against the doorframe. Their arms fall limp at their sides. His fingers feel weird, like they’re not part of his body anymore. Seunghyun’s hands disappear into his pockets. Jiyong envies Seunghyun’s khakis.

 

“Can I ask--” He hesitates as he speaks, his mouth kind of running off on its own before his brain has a chance to commit. “--something personal?”

 

“Um, yeah, go for it.”

 

 _Don’t cave, just do_. Jiyong rocks back onto his heels, fingers twitching against his thigh. He takes a deep breath. “How old are you?”

 

A burst of laughter spills from Seunghyun’s mouth, the sound buoyant, and it makes his face scrunch up in this really wonderful way that has Jiyong’s stomach bunching into all kinds of complicated knots.

 

“Twenty-five,” Seunghyun answers, his head tilting to catch Jiyong’s gaze and hold it.

 

Older than he thought, then. Now Jiyong is exceptionally curious. He wants more than five minutes alone with Seunghyun--wants time to get to know him. His lips quirk and he stares down at his feet, giddy at the thought.

 

“I can’t tell, are you pleased or disappointed?”

 

When he lifts his head, Seunghyun is still smiling and still very difficult to look at. “Neither,” Jiyong admits. “Can I ask another?” Because if he doesn’t keep talking there’s a chance he might try to touch Seunghyun again.

 

“You can.”

 

He goes with the first question he can think of. “Last name?”

 

“Choi.”

 

“Siblings?”

 

“An older sister.”

 

“Where did you grow up?”

 

“Outside of Portland.”

 

Jiyong’s chest starts to fill with an odd sense of gratification as he collects each piece of information, like Seunghyun is somehow becoming more real in the process--not a mythical creature, but an actual person with a history that he wants to know every detail of.

 

“School?”

 

“Here, at the university.”

 

“Major.”

 

“Business.”

 

“Shit.” _Didn’t see that one coming_.

 

“Surprised?”

 

He laughs, blushing at being caught. “A little.”

 

“Don’t worry, you’re not the only one,” Seunghyun reassures him, joking at his own expense and offering him a smile that carries a hint of bitterness.

 

Jiyong senses a story there. But since the universe hates him, they’re interrupted before he can utter another syllable--the door to the garage flying open at the end of the hall. His pulse skips a few thousand beats.

 

Of all people, it’s his father who waddles in with both arms full of bulging paper bags. “Ah, Jiyong. Just the man I was looking for. Can you help me with the groceries?”

 

“Sure, dad.”

 

From where they’re standing, Young Hwan can’t see Seunghyun on the other side of the doorway. Jiyong motions with his chin and Seunghyun takes the hint, albeit slower than he should--lingering there in front of him until the last minute, expression almost playful. Challenging. _Flirtatious_.

 

 _You asshole_ , he communicates with his eyes. Seunghyun swallows yet another laugh and saunters backwards, one eyebrow arched and lip caught between his teeth.

 

Great, just what Jiyong needs, more spank bank material. _Yay_.

 

“Go,” he mouths, shooing the moron with a frantic hand just as his dad sidles up to him, kissing him on the head like the massive, overly-affectionate cheeseball that he is.

 

“Thanks, kiddo,” Young Hwan says cheerfully, ducking into the now deserted kitchen.

 

Jiyong slumps against the wall and looks up at the mile-high ceiling, wondering how the hell he’s going to get through this. Because his heart’s still beating too fast and he feels like maybe he needs to lie down on the floor and wait until he’s not stoned anymore to process the last ten minutes.

 

 _Watch this all be one giant, weed-induced fever dream_.

 

But his meltdown will have to wait. Plus there might be snacks in those grocery bags and Nora probably already finished their pizza like the bad, bad friend that she is. In wordless agreement, Jiyong’s stomach grumbles, and he heads for the garage with a loud sigh.

  
  


 

 

*

  
  


 

 

Harsh sun beats down upon Jiyong’s gradually melting face as he ambles along the sidewalk on his way home. It’s so hot he’s pretty sure his brain has gone beyond well-done and reached a state of crispiness it hasn’t experienced since mid-terms. He wipes a layer of sweat from his forehead, unsticking his t-shirt from his body and shaking it out. _Guhhh, I wanna die_. The very thin and almost imperceptible silver lining to this moment is that he’s no longer unemployed, the second-run movie theater in town having taken on the role of his saving grace. It’s a total shit-hole and the pay is lousy. But a job is a job, and maybe he can actually start chipping away at his summer reading list when it’s not too busy. Which will probably be always. Another bonus is that it’s within walking distance. Sort of. Maybe he should think about unearthing his old bike from the murky depths of the basement.

 

“Oh thank god. Jiyong, honey, can you come here real quick?” his mom calls to him from across the yard as he shuffles towards their house.

 

Reluctantly, he jogs over to the driveway where Soo Jin is half-inside her car, digging in her purse with a Very Distressed look on her face.

 

“What’s up?” Jiyong pants, shaking out his shirt again. God, he can’t wait to shower.

 

“I left some things at the school, but I don’t think I’ll be back before Alan and the guys take off. Be my knight in shining armor and bring this to him?”

 

Soo Jin hands him an envelope and offers a brief smile. Work must be really stressing her out, because the smile doesn’t come anywhere near reaching her eyes. Jiyong nods and his mother hurriedly climbs all the way into her car, slamming the door and turning the keys in the ignition. She’s gone before he can even think to wave goodbye.

 

“All right, then.”

 

Wandering around the perimeter of the house, he finds the landscaping crew packing up their equipment for the day. Jiyong even has to take a moment to appreciate how his yard looks absolutely nothing like it did a couple weeks ago, all manner of flora bursting from every corner of their property. His mom’s really outdone herself this time, because they’re only about half-way finished. Sighing, Jiyong grimaces and uses his free hand to wipe his forehead again. At least now he fits in with all the other sweaty dudes. _I still wanna die._

 

Alan is in the middle of a conversation with one of his crewmembers when Jiyong spots him near the gazebo. A crewmember who is also shirtless. The same crewmember that he has dirty thoughts about at least twenty times a day. _Fuck my life_. Jiyong slows his pace in a sad effort to postpone his fate. And perhaps to also shamelessly check out the golden expanse of Seunghyun’s back--the breadth of his sun-pinkened shoulders and the slight curve of his waist. How the hell is he supposed to talk to Alan, or breathe for that matter, when Seunghyun’s everything is like a physical assault on his senses? _For fuck’s sake, even your back has dimples_. Jiyong steels himself and soldiers on.

 

Of course, at the exact moment he reaches the pair, something Alan says makes Seunghyun laugh loudly and with his whole body. But since that’s not nearly painful enough, he catches a glimpse of a dusky nipple, and then pivots on his heel so fast he nearly trips over his own feet.

 

 _Nuh-uh, nope, screw that_.

 

“Jiyong!” Alan’s big voice stops him in his tracks. Jiyong braces for impact, but still flinches when the older man slaps him on the back, leading him over to the gazebo where Seunghyun is, unfortunately, still standing. “What brings you all the way out here?”

 

“Um…” he fumbles for words that have nothing to do with “abs” or “pecs” or “happy trail” and averts his eyes from the offensive sight. “My mom wanted me to give you this.” Jiyong delivers the now crinkled envelope to Alan, letting out a wheezy laugh and staring at the grass. “She had to run back to the school for a bit.”

 

“Oh, great. Thanks, champ,” Alan replies, back slap #2 actually making Jiyong lurch forward with the force of impact.

 

He hears a muffled giggle to his left. Seunghyun covering his mouth with his hand, eyes dancing with humor. Jiyong wants to punch him. Or at least make him put his goddamn shirt on. Because all of _that_ is about to give Jiyong heatstroke.

 

“So what do you think? Pretty neat, huh?”

 

Alan is asking him a question, his animated tone registering in Jiyong’s lust-addled brain, but all he comprehends is the bead of sweat sliding its way down the middle of Seunghyun’s torso. He follows it until it dies a blissful death in the waistband of Seunghyun’s underwear. _That he can see_ , because those fucking khaki shorts are slung so low they’re hanging onto his hips for dear life. Jiyong will forever be envious of Seunghyun’s pants.

 

“It’s uh...” Jiyong’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, not looking at the yard when he answers distantly, “It’s nice. Really, really...nice.”

 

“Glad to hear it, sport.”

 

Back slap #3 nearly knocks his eyes from his skull and he wonders if Alan is doing it on purpose now. Plus who the hell talks like that? Jiyong stumbles, a firm hand grabbing him by the arm. _Hello, deja vu_. Carefully, he looks up, heart thundering in his ears so hard it pretty much drowns out everything else. Seunghyun’s gaze is bright and impossibly warm and Jiyong comes very close to moaning when he feels a calloused thumb stroke the inside of his elbow.

 

“Hi,” Seunghyun says quietly, mouth lifting in its customary half-smile.

 

He refuses to make words. So he just sort of grunts in reply, which causes that smile to crack a little wider. Jiyong gives himself a gold star.

 

“Sorry about Alan, he’s a lot to handle.”

 

“I said put it in the truck not take it apart, you idiot!” Alan bellows across the yard, oblivious to their murmuring, and stomps off in a blaze of sunburnt fury.

 

“No kidding,” Jiyong huffs, taking a step in reverse because they are way too close for comfort. He rubs his fingers over the patch of skin Seunghyun touched and keeps his focus on a newly planted flower bed in the distance.

 

“You okay?” Seunghyun asks.

 

When Jiyong turns, he finds thick eyebrows knotted in obvious concern. Which shouldn’t be more upsetting than the fact that Seunghyun is half-naked, but it is, and suddenly it’s like all the heat in the universe has decided to come live in his cheeks. He feels like his entire body is melting now.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Maybe you should go inside,” Seunghyun suggests, closing the gap between them to clasp his shoulder. “You seem pretty flushed. Don’t want you passing out.”

 

 _Oh my god, would you--_ His eyes dart low, sweeping over Seunghyun’s gleaming collarbones, and he worries his bottom lip until it hurts. This is so unfair.

 

“You’re right,” he almost squeaks, sort of laughing as he steps away again. “W-water sounds pretty great right now.” _Or an arctic shower_. Jiyong would bet all the money in the world that Seunghyun knows exactly what he’s going to do once he’s alone in his room.

 

The look he gets in return basically confirms it, Seunghyun’s eyes twinkling and lips slanting upwards into a smirk. For a moment, Jiyong can only stand there and stare back at him, wondering how the hell he ended up here. Not literally in his backyard, but here, in front of Seunghyun, the tension heavy enough to leave a dent in the earth.

 

A loud clatter breaks the spell and Jiyong jolts, nervously pushing damp hair off of his forehead.

 

“I, uh, I think Alan might need your help,” he says, motioning to the dumbass at the other end of the yard who is currently wrestling with an unruly garden hose.

 

“Ah, yeah.” Seunghyun chuckles, beginning to head in that direction. “Can’t let the hose win.”

 

He snorts. “See you tomorrow.”

 

“Take care of yourself, Jiyong,” Seunghyun returns. His smile is sweet enough to rot every tooth in a ten mile radius.

 

Jiyong spins around fully at that, walking backwards towards the house, and impulsively lifts his right hand to wiggle his fingers. “I intend to,” he blurts, with a bravado he didn’t even know he was capable of.

 

_Holy shit._

 

But the ungodly heat crawling underneath his skin is worth it. Because Seunghyun laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck while he watches Jiyong go, something a bit darker in the way his eyes are twinkling. Something heady and not-so-sweet.

 

As he wanders, stunned, into the house, Jiyong hopes Seunghyun wishes it was his hand instead.

 

 

 

 

*

  
  


 

 

During his training at the movie theater, Jiyong’s mind is a complete mess. He’s listening to the acne-ridden sixteen year-old tell him how to navigate the register and work the popcorn machine, but what he’s thinking about is how terrifying it is that Seunghyun might really reciprocate his…his what? Crush? Jiyong almost snorts with laughter in the middle of Zach’s spiel about cleaning the soda fountain. Do grown men still get crushes? The thought of _grown men_ in relation to Seunghyun has Jiyong’s brain derailing into shockingly pornographic territory and he misses all of the instructions for doing inventory.

 

“Hey, man,” Zach says, reclaiming his attention.

 

Jiyong raises his eyebrows. He’s well aware that there’s no way he can pretend he was listening.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Did you even hear a word I just said?”

 

“Maybe one or two,” he admits without embarrassment.

 

Zach heaves a sigh, slouching over the concessions counter. “Whatever. It’s not like Ed really cares about half of this shit anyway.” He looks at Jiyong over his shoulder. “You smoke?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Awesome,” Zach replies, giving him a lazy grin and tucking a lock of his long blonde hair behind a gauged ear. Something in his eyes tells Jiyong that he just earned major brownie points. “Wanna split a j after the matinee?”

 

 _Is this real life?_ His brow furrows and he tugs on the knot of his tie. He tied it too tight this morning in a hurry to get out the door.

 

“You don’t, um...get caught?”

 

“Nope. Sometimes Ed partakes, too.”

 

Jiyong laughs. “How the hell has this place survived for so long?”

 

“Wishes and luck,” Zach murmurs, smirking like the clever little shit that he probably is.

 

Perhaps his job won’t be as mind-numbing as he thought.

 

After he shadows Zach for the first “rush” (a whopping total of about four or five customers), they wind through the maze of back hallways until they reach the wide alley behind the building. Jiyong learns that Zach is actually seventeen, is obsessed with Harry Potter, and wants to study animation when he goes to college next year. As one of the main people he’ll be working with for the next couple months, Jiyong thinks Zach isn’t so bad. Their boss, Ed, isn’t so bad either, although he’s a little strange, and not in the endearing sort of way. At least it’ll keep things interesting.

 

Later that afternoon, Jiyong walks home feeling a bit less butt-hurt about being trapped in the suburbs all summer.

 

 


	2. Part 2

 

 _can i come over 4 dinner? my  
_ _mom’s going on a ~date w her  
_ _new boytoy & 1 is the loneliest  
_ _number_

_Yeah, of course. Where’s  
_ _your brother?_

_out w his trashy gf_

_You can stay over, you know.  
  
_ _We’ll watch shitty television and  
_ _order take out or something._

_ur an angel_

_Hardly. See you around 6?_

_aye, cap’n buttermonkey_

_Please don’t call me that._

_2late. alrdy changed ur  
_ _contact info_

_You suck._

_< 3_

 

Near midnight, they’re still hanging out on the couch in the living room--coffee table strewn with half-eaten cartons of Thai food and Nora’s legs draped over Jiyong’s lap. He has no idea what’s playing, she stole the remote about an hour ago and he’s been drifting in and out of focus ever since. Jiyong wants to know what Seunghyun’s favorite movie is and if he watches cartoons on his days off. It’s not difficult to imagine him in his boxers (or briefs, Jiyong couldn’t tell last time), lounging around his apartment (house?) while eating cereal and watching The Spectacular Spiderman. Even easier to imagine himself right beside Seunghyun, his own bowl of cereal cupped in his hands, and their thighs pressed together.

 

“I _still_ can’t believe you caught him with his shirt off before the first date,” Nora says out of nowhere.

 

Jiyong rolls his eyes. _I thought we covered this already_.

 

“It’s not like I had a _choice_ ,” he argues, pinching one of her toes. Nora yelps and kicks his hand away. “And shut the fuck up. There may never be any dates.”

 

“Oh, please. You know he likes you.”

 

“I don’t know anything.”

 

“Yeah, okay, Jon Snow,” she mutters wryly. “Have you talked to him since you got an eyeful of his man-boobs?”

 

“He doesn’t--” Jiyong grits out a desperate laugh. _I swear to god_. “No. I haven’t. I’ve been at the theater all week. But I start working evenings on Saturday.”

 

“It’s supposed to be 95 on Saturday, maybe he’ll show up naked.”

 

Throwing his head back against the couch cushions, he covers his reddening face with his hands and moans, “You’re really, really awful.”

 

“Just don’t pop any boners when you’re thinking about him in bed later. You know I like to cuddle.”

 

Jiyong exhales loudly and pats her on the knee. “I’ll be the little spoon this time. It’s safer that way.”

 

The peals of Nora’s laughter echo in the large room, making him smile. Though when she doesn’t stop, he has to lean over and clamp his palm over her mouth so she won’t wake his parents up with her raging hyena cackles.

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

Saturday is a bust. The moment he steps foot in the kitchen his mother announces that she’s kidnapping him so they can go run errands, giving him a mere fifteen minutes to eat and get dressed. All while still half-asleep. Jiyong sneaks a quick peek out his bedroom window, skinny jeans stuck around his calves. Soo Jin honks the horn from the driveway and he growls in frustration. There’s no sign of Seunghyun amongst the landscaping crew. _It’s not the end of the world, Jiyong_. He needs to keep reminding himself that a few minor conversations don’t necessarily mean anything.

 

Throwing on the rest of his clothes, he high-tails it out of the house, mussing up his bedhead in the hopes that he can pass as partially human. But the instant Jiyong shuts the front door and whirls around, he has to fight the instinct to run right back in again.

 

There, leaning in the window on the passenger side, is Seunghyun in all his sweaty, golden, tank-topped glory. Talking to his mom. _Laughing_ with his mom, probably at one of her seriously horrible jokes, and looking radiant while doing so. Jiyong sends a silent plea to whatever deity is listening to not let this be too awkward. It’s unrealistic to pray for much more than that.

 

Tentatively, he steps forward, already hating that he chose to wear one of his old shirts. It hangs too loose on his frame. Makes him look twelve. He _feels_ twelve right now, sneaking closer to the car like they won’t see him if he doesn’t make any sudden movements. Jiyong is an idiot.

 

“Morning,” Seunghyun greets around a smile that gives him a severe case of jello-legs.

 

He braces himself on the car, brushing his bangs out of his face and attempting a smile of his own. “Morning.”

 

A handful of seconds tick by where nothing happens save for the constant thrumming of his mom’s SUV. Apparently no deities were interested in throwing him a fucking bone.

 

Jiyong clears his throat nervously. He knows Soo Jin is watching them stare at each other. Which is why he keeps his eyes above the neck ( _not that that’s any better, let’s be real honest_ ). Because Jiyong could stare at Seunghyun’s face for his entire life and it would still be the nicest face he’s ever had the pleasure of looking at.

 

“I should, um…” Jiyong mumbles, gesturing to the car door.

 

“Oh, yeah, sorry.”

 

Seunghyun pushes away from the window, leaving just barely enough space for him to squeeze past, and then has the nerve to open the fucking door for him like they’re about to go out on a date. _Please, please kill me._

 

“Thanks.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Seunghyun replies softly.

 

And that’s when he feels it, the spread of long fingers lightly resting against his back as he moves to climb inside. Jiyong doesn’t jump. Or gasp, or make any noise at all actually. But he does kind of shiver--a weird, tingling ripple traveling up his spine from the point of contact. He’s also pretty sure Seunghyun felt it, too. Because the expression he’s wearing when Jiyong turns to face him is decidedly smug.

 

 _Fucker_.

 

Whatever’s happening, whatever they’re doing...it’s fast becoming a game he’s majorly ill-equipped to play.

 

“Have a good day, Mrs. Kwon,” Seunghyun says, tone bright, and closes the car door with a gentle shove.

 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Soo Jin practically coos in response.

 

Jiyong whips his head to the left, eyes narrowed and lips parted in mild horror. He waits until she pulls out of the driveway to speak.

 

“You call him _sweetheart_?”

 

Hazarding a glance out the window, he finds Seunghyun still there, one hand on his hip and the other raised in a jaunty wave. A tiny smile tugs at Jiyong’s mouth and he thinks about flipping him off, but then the car is moving and the house disappears from view.

 

“What? He’s a sweet kid.”

 

“He’s not a kid,” Jiyong corrects her.

 

“Honey, when you’re my age, everyone’s a kid.” Soo Jin eyes him critically. “And don’t think, for one nanosecond, that I didn’t notice the little telepathic conversation the two of you were having.”

 

“It’s nothing.”

 

“Uh- _huh_.”

 

Which is all Jiyong needs to hear to know his mother Does Not Approve, sweet kid or otherwise.

 

Jiyong just closes his eyes and fights off daydreams of Seunghyun’s stupidly perfect face being the first thing he sees when he wakes up in the morning.

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

Later at the movie theater, the evening crowd is a lot bigger than Jiyong expects. He’s stationed at the box office while Zach tends to concessions with Jen, an older girl Jiyong only just met that night. It’s not overwhelming, but it is a little hectic, and he’s grateful for the opportunity to switch his brain off for a while--too busy to spare thoughts on anything other than ticket sales and being polite.

 

Zach slides up behind him when there’s a lull, punching him lightly on the arm and giving him a thumbs up. His eyes aren’t bloodshot, but Jiyong knows he’s high as a kite because the kid is grinning like the Cheshire cat and his general disposition is bordering on sunny.

 

“Hangin’ in there?”

 

“Yeah, I’m...” But Jiyong’s attention shifts, getting stolen by movement at the front doors and his eyes go saucer-wide. “I’m…”

 

... _totally screwed_.

 

“Something wrong?” Zach’s head swivels in the same direction.

 

“You could say that,” he breathes.

 

Because guess who the fuck is strolling casually towards the box office in all his flawless glory? Though Seunghyun looks completely different when he isn’t impersonating a sweaty porn star and Jiyong wants to melt into the floor even as he stares, helpless. His eyes make a gradual descent from head to toe, taking in the short, perfectly mussed hair, a v-neck that’s tight enough to give him heart-palpitations, dark skinny jeans, and fucking _flip-flops_.

 

_Who even are you, anyway?_

 

And he knows the exact moment Seunghyun sees him when a surprised (but pleased?) smile creeps across his face. Jiyong immediately feels like a huge dork in his white, short-sleeved button-up and the only tie his dad would let him borrow--a pale blue number patterned with these horridly bright pink flamingoes. If he had enough common sense to do anything other than gawk, Jiyong would be hiding under the counter by now, but he’s paralyzed in his seat.

 

“Earth to Jiyong,” Zach intones, waving his hand back and forth.

 

“M’good,” he utters, rolling his shoulders, and reigns in the compulsion to fix his hair. It’s probably fine. Right? Jiyong glances at Zach and thinks about asking him, but then realizes how lame that is and there’s a line forming anyway so…

 

“Yeahhh, okay. I’m gonna go now.”

 

“Cool.”

 

“Just-- keep doing what you’re doing,” Zach encourages, giving him a friendly pat on the top of his head before wandering over to concessions again.

 

In order to prevent himself from having a mental breakdown, Jiyong gingerly notes to himself that this town is not that big. Sure, there are a couple monstrous cineplexes around, but there’s only one dingy shit-hole that plays the highest quality regurgitated garbage at cheaper prices. It’s obvious that’s the reason Seunghyun is here, and not because the universe believes he hasn’t suffered quite _nearly_ enough.

 

For the first eight people in line, Jiyong is a cheerful robot, mechanically taking their money in exchange for two hours of potentially crushing disappointment. He can’t even remember what movies are playing, just taps the appropriate buttons that will pop open the cash register and spit out perforated tickets, that he then tears himself because it’s not crowded enough to warrant an usher. And with each torn ticket, Jiyong is painfully aware of how much closer that brings him to communicating with Seunghyun. Seunghyun, whose smile has grown noticeably larger since having walked through the door.

 

When just the two of them remain (because how could it be any other way), Jiyong inhales a much needed breath and readjusts his ugly as fuck tie over his chest.

 

“Long time no see,” Seunghyun murmurs as he steps up to the counter, both hands resting flat against its nicked and worn surface. Hands that Jiyong sees are spotless and well-maintained and more gorgeous than ever.

 

He manages to huff out a short laugh, something in Seunghyun’s calm baritone placating his dizzy nerves.

 

“I didn’t know you worked here.”

 

“I started last week. Why, do you come here often?” Jiyong asks, praying he dissolves into thin air well before the words have finished leaving his mouth.

 

“I do, actually,” Seunghyun replies, eyes glowing with mirth, and it’s so fucking distracting Jiyong has to pinch his thigh to really listen. “The movies are hit or miss, but it’s an excuse to leave my apartment for something that isn’t work.”

 

He hesitates, brow wrinkling. “Alone?”

 

“Yeah. I don’t have anyone to ask.”

 

Seunghyun’s tone carries an unspoken and teasing “ _yet_ ” that has Jiyong swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat. The expression on Seunghyun’s face isn’t helping either--features bright and vaguely affectionate.

 

“Your tie is fantastic, by the way,” Seunghyun mentions, one hand moving to rub at the back of his neck in a gesture Jiyong now recognizes as a nervous tic.

 

 _How the fuck are you nervous? Do I make you nervous?_ The possibility of that being true has a manic laugh bubbling up in his lungs, but he holds it in, ducking his head to pick up the gross accessory.

 

“I can’t take credit, it’s my dad’s. As a golfer, he’s required to own at least one ridiculously hideous tie, and of course it’s the one he lends me.”

 

“No, it’s great. I love it.”

 

Jiyong flashes Seunghyun a wry grin. “I’ll have to send him your regards.”

 

“Much appreciated.”

 

“Or, y’know, you can tell him yourself. Wouldn’t wanna rob you of the experience.”

 

Seunghyun chuckles, tipping forward to place his weight against the counter, and Jiyong watches his dimples become more defined. Though that might just be because they’re currently within petting distance. He thinks about tracing them with the tips of his fingers; pressing soft kisses to the swell of Seunghyun’s cheeks. Jiyong realizes he’s staring pretty blatantly and that said staring is not going unnoticed, given the way that Seunghyun is staring right back and nibbling on his lip in the most obscene way. _God, don’t do that_. But Jiyong is captivated anyway, his body leaning in unconsciously.

 

He’s only sort of cognizant of Zach’s voice in the background; Jen’s no doubt sardonic reply, and the churning of the popcorn machine. It’s hard to think when he can actively feel himself getting lost in this... _thing_ between them, the invisible threads of his attraction wrapping around him tighter and tighter. Jiyong studies the delicate shadows being cast over Seunghyun’s face from the light hanging above the box office--the way it accentuates the liquid warmth of his eyes (the sweet curve of his lips, the playful tilt of his head).

 

Jiyong is overwhelmed. And having Seunghyun in his space, seeming equally captivated by him, is the icing on his ten layer cake of sexual frustration.

 

It’s this acknowledgment that sends his heartbeat skittering to new heights and he catches himself. Not only because they’re in the middle of the goddamn lobby, but because the possibility of maybe ever kissing Seunghyun for real makes him feel like throwing up.

 

Gradually, Jiyong leans back, twisting the material of his tie in his hands. The dizzy nerves come fluttering to life again and he struggles to remember what they were even doing.

 

“Anyway,” he begins, the word coming out a bit strained, tongue more like a bulky, gelatinous brick in his mouth. “What movie are you going to?”

 

“Oh, right. Um…” Seunghyun trails off into a slightly embarrassed laugh, looking past Jiyong at the marquee above his head. “I don’t know.”

 

“I haven’t seen any of them, otherwise I’d offer to help you make a decision.”

 

This elicits a disapproving frown from Seunghyun.

 

“Do you not like movies?”

 

“The opposite. I just have a low tolerance for summer blockbusters,” Jiyong confesses.

 

“I suddenly feel compelled to change that.”

 

He smiles, still playing with his tie. “Why?”

 

“Because overblown Hollywood action films are good for your health. And sometimes it’s nice to escape,” Seunghyun explains, squinting up at the marquee again. “So I guess that means I’ll take one adult for Captain America.”

 

“Solid choice,” Jiyong says with a nod.

 

“But I thought you hadn’t seen any of them.”

 

Jiyong’s smile threatens to eat his face. He’s not sure he’ll ever get used to hearing that teasing lilt in Seunghyun’s voice--his insides always seem like they’re about to disintegrate.

 

“I haven’t,” he insists, taking Seunghyun’s money and turning away to print out the movie ticket, his fingers flying over the keyboard. “But my friend Nora has. She said nice things and she never says nice things.”

 

He hears a low hum from Seunghyun. “Is she the one who’s been at the house?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“I think she threatened to kill me once.”

 

“ _What?_ ” Jiyong’s brain seizes up because seriously _what?_ He can’t tell what face he’s making right now, but it can’t be pretty.

 

Seunghyun continues, chuckling as he does. Apparently getting death threats from strange girls doesn’t really faze him. “She uh, motioned slitting her throat and then pointed at me from the kitchen window.”

 

Strangling his best friend is something Jiyong figured he’d have to do one day, he just didn’t expect it to be this soon, and he smothers a groan into his hands. Jiyong mutters a quiet, “Ohmygod, I’m so sorry,” and feels his cheeks go blazing hot under his palms.

 

“No, no it’s cool. Those are good friends, the ones who try to protect you from potential suitors by way of murder. Very honorable.”

 

His hands dive-bomb into his lap along with his stomach. “Did you just--”

 

“Yeah, I did,” Seunghyun interrupts and reaches out to take his ticket from the printer, tearing it himself. “Don’t look so surprised,” he adds, holding out the other half.

 

Jiyong’s hand extends automatically, which was really _not_ smart at all because now their fingers  are sliding against one another and Seunghyun’s thumb is grazing his knuckles while he fumbles for the ticket stub.

 

If he thought a blush reaching his internal organs was bad, he’d never felt it in his bones.

 

_You…_

 

You what? Jiyong has no thoughts only a mountain of jumbled and intensifying emotions.

 

“Enjoy the movie,” he nearly squeaks, withdrawing from Seunghyun’s hold. “You’ll um, you’ll have to uh, tell me--” Jiyong coughs out a laugh and grabs a fistful of his hair. “How it is. Tomorrow. When I see you?” _Wow why was that a question._

 

The smirk that twists its way onto Seunghyun’s mouth is the most terrible thing.

 

“I will.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Okay.”

 

_Okay._

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

_I made a bet with Annie._

_You should know better. What  
_ _did she promise you this time?_

_Three bottles of wine and that  
_ _Velvet Elvis hanging in her  
_ _bedroom._

_If I lose, she gets a bottle of  
_ _top shelf vodka and my  
_ _collection of vintage erotica._

_Those are high stakes._

_We like to live dangerously._

_Do I even wanna know what  
_ _the bet is?_

_You’re not gonna like it._

_Tell me anyway._

_I said you’d get laid by the  
_ _4th of July. Annie said you  
_ _wouldn’t._

 

Jiyong gags on his cereal, coming very close to sputtering bits of soggy, masticated Cheerios all over the kitchen floor.

 

_FELIX!!1!_

_I told you you wouldn’t like  
_ _it._

_That’s in like, 5 fucking days._

_Exactly. 5 days in which to  
_ _get fucked._

_I think I hate you._

_Hate is such a strong word._

_You’re dead to me._

_Jiyongggg come on. You  
_ _know that Velvet Elvis is  
_ _gonna look great hanging  
_ _above my toilet._

 

He doesn’t even know how to respond to that. _I literally have the worst friends on the planet._ Jiyong looks down at his cereal and grimaces, his appetite completely obliterated. How is he supposed to face Seunghyun after this? _We haven’t even kissed yet_. But that could happen today. What if it did? Jiyong’s loss of appetite transforms into full-blown nausea at the thought. _Nope. No way_. He dumps the rest of his cereal in the sink and puts the bowl in the dishwasher. When his phone buzzes again, he ignores it, wandering out of the kitchen only to bump into his father.

 

“Hey, kiddo,” Young Hwan says, all smiles, and grips Jiyong by the shoulders before he can escape.

 

“Hi, dad.”

 

“How’s work going?”

 

Jiyong is so not in the mood for this. He sighs. “Really well.”

 

“I’m glad to hear it.” His dad seems to consider whether or not to keep going, the firm set of his jaw giving him away. “...even though you wouldn’t have t--”

 

“ _Yeah_ , dad. I know,” he butts in, shrugging Young Hwan’s hands off.

 

Young Hwan’s mouth pulls into a deep frown as he slides his rejected hands into his pockets. He appears every inch the stern, authoritative Korean father most people expect him to be. Which is amusing, because that couldn’t be further from the truth.

 

“Always so stubborn.”

 

“I wonder where I got it from,” Jiyong mutters and Young Hwan’s frown softens. “Do you _want_ me to be a total mess when I graduate or something?”

 

“You know that’s not what I mean, Jiyong. I just want you to be comfortable. Happy. Free to do as you please.”

 

For a moment, he just stares back at his father, half defiant and half two-hundred shades of done. Jiyong never imagined he’d have to fight his parents this hard for the right to be self-sufficient.

 

“Life isn’t always comfortable.” _Or have you forgotten already?_ he adds in his head. Though maybe he should’ve said it out loud.

 

Young Hwan sighs too, his posture becoming less stiff as he considers Jiyong’s words. “All right, you make a fair point.” He offers Jiyong a wry smile and reaches out to ruffle his hair. “How did you get to be so disillusioned so fast, anyway?”

 

“Probably from me, dear,” Soo Jin interjects from her study down the hall. She pops her head through the doorway, grinning at both of them.

 

“Ah, yes, of course. How could I be so silly,” Young Hwan replies, tone dry as ever.

 

She rolls her eyes and turns to Jiyong. “What are you up to today, sweetpea?”

 

“Dunno yet.”

 

“Well if you’ve got some time later, will you do me a favor and take those filing boxes down from the shelves in the garage?” Young Hwan asks. “I need to bring them to the office tomorrow.”

 

“Sure thing.”

 

The idea of chores might offend some, but Jiyong is celebrating inside. Because it offers him a) a place to hide that isn’t his room. And b) a much needed distraction from the fact that Seunghyun indirectly gave himself the title of “potential suitor”. Felix’s Cinderella analogy comes to mind and Jiyong scowls. He has no friends. Jiyong is going to spend the rest of his days in solitude and become a wrinkled, poorly-bearded hermit. Probably with a herd of cats.

 

Giving a lazy salute to his parents, Jiyong spins on his heel and goes upstairs to change. He might as well get started on those boxes now. It’s certainly better than the alternative of spending the day hoping Seunghyun will and won’t magically appear out of thin air.

 

Though fifteen minutes into climbing up the stepladder and removing the boxes one by one, he regrets ever praying for the former. Because the asshole materializes from the hazy brightness outside just when Jiyong reaches the top step and he almost loses his balance.

 

“Hey, Jiyon--”

 

“ _Jesus christ_ ,” he gasps, heart taking off like a bullet, and he latches onto one of the metal shelves so he doesn’t topple to the ground. “A little warning would be nice.”

 

Seunghyun snickers. “I’m...I’m sorry. Did I scare you?”

 

Jiyong huffs. “Maybe.”

 

“Do you need help?”

 

“No.” He eyes the last box in the corner. It looks heavy, bloated from all the paper jammed inside of it. “Yes,” Jiyong amends. “Can you just grab this box for me and put it with the others?”

 

“Yeah.” Seunghyun moves to stand next to the stepladder and Jiyong grunts, hefting the box into his arms and passing it down. “What is all this, anyway?”

 

“No idea. It’s my dad’s office shit.”

 

Climbing down, he dusts himself off, not at all fixating on the flex of Seunghyun’s muscles as he deposits the box on top of the pile like it weighs nothing. Jiyong’s brain does him the disservice of translating that into other things. Sexy things. Like how easy it would be to pick Jiyong up and pin him against the wall. A faint shiver rides his spine all the way to the base of his skull from how bad he wants that to happen.

 

Of course, this is when Seunghyun glances over, catching Jiyong in the middle of his wall-sex fantasy while wiping his palms on his khaki shorts. Jiyong’s mouth hangs open and he knows he’s blushing up a storm. The smile Seunghyun gives him in return is two parts sweet and one part...definitely not anything approaching sugary. In fact, Jiyong would prefer to avoid categorizing it. Especially because that part is beginning to devour the other ones the longer his brain trips over itself to communicate with his tongue.

 

Jiyong coughs into one of his fists. “You guys already done for the day?” he asks, looking over Seunghyun’s shoulder at the crewmembers lounging on the grass by one of their landscaping trucks.

 

“Oh, no.” Seunghyun follows Jiyong’s gaze. “Just on lunch break.”

 

“And you’re not with the others because…?”

 

Bringing a hand up to rub at his neck, Seunghyun laughs slightly. “I forgot mine at home.”

 

“Ah.” Jiyong nods, walking to the Mercedes on the opposite side of the garage to pop the trunk.  “If you help me put these boxes in my dad’s car, I’ll find you something in the kitchen. There’s always too much food around.”

 

“You don’t, um. You don’t have to do that.”

 

“Seunghyun, it’s fine,” he says, and brushes past him to get started.

 

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Seunghyun counters, trailing after him with a box of his own.

 

 _Seriously?_ Jiyong stops next to the car, dropping the filing box into the trunk, and extends a hand to take hold of Seunghyun’s arm before he can psych himself out.

 

“You’re not imposing, I’m offering. And insisting that you say yes.”

 

This might be the first time that he’s initiated physical contact with so much intent. It’s harmless. But Jiyong still recognizes the importance of it. The meaning behind the act. And the weird thing is that it doesn’t feel weird at all. Seunghyun seems to notice, too--his gaze traveling slowly from Jiyong’s fingers to meet his eyes.

 

“Okay. Fine. Yes.”

 

In a moment of pure, unadulterated lunacy, Jiyong squeezes his arm gently--thumb sweeping over the edge of Seunghyun’s shirt-sleeve to touch warm skin. It’s a lot and it’s nothing all at the same time, and Jiyong has to convince himself to let go instead of listening to his inner thought process. _No, I will not throw your box to the floor, grab you by the neck, and then attack your face with my mouth._

 

There are too many witnesses lurking about, anyway. And the last thing he wants is to cost Seunghyun his job, they’ve been toeing a fine line as it is. So it’s with great restraint that Jiyong moves back, offering Seunghyun a small, somewhat bashful smile, and continues to collect boxes.

 

He doesn’t miss the way Seunghyun’s answering smile lingers, even once they’ve finished and relocated to the kitchen. Jiyong tries to breathe through the anxious churning in his gut.

 

“Is there anything you don’t like?” he asks, peering into the fridge.

 

“Bananas.”

 

Jiyong whips around in shock, making Seunghyun laugh.

 

“Wait, for real?”

 

“Yeah, it’s a texture thing.”

 

He leans on the door and squints. “Does lasagna pass the texture test?”

 

“Definitely,” Seunghyun replies, watching Jiyong from where he’s sitting at the island, one elbow propped on the counter and head in his hand.

 

“Great.” Jiyong turns away to find the appropriate tupperware container. “‘Cause we made some a few days ago that’s really killer.”

 

“You cook?” Seunghyun sounds impressed.

 

“Sometimes. I helped my mom with this, though. She has a thing for making stuff from scratch.”

 

And by “thing”, Jiyong means “obsession”. He remembers when she first started, back when he was still in middle school. It even got to the point where he never wanted to look at a noodle ever again. Obviously, this changed, and now he couldn’t be more thrilled that their house will probably always be a mini pasta factory. Smiling to himself, he takes two plates from the cabinet. His mom still makes the best ravioli in the entire galaxy.

 

“That’s pretty amazing.”

 

“She’s an amazing lady,” he murmurs, cutting two decently-sized pieces. “Hot or cold?”

 

“Cold.”

 

Jiyong’s mouth splits even wider into a broad grin. _You’re a good man, Seunghyun_. He balances both plates on one arm, silverware in hand, and eases onto the other stool.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

They sit in relative silence, the scrape and clink of metal forks on ceramic filling the room; a quiet cough, the knock of Jiyong’s foot against one of the stool legs. It strikes him as odd how normal it seems to have Seunghyun here in his kitchen, eating his food, like it happens every day. Though that might be because it practically does, just not with such an air of...domesticity. Jiyong’s never dated anyone long enough to feel comfortable, let alone long enough to have them hang out at his house. Not that, you know, they’re _dating_ or anything. He tries not to choke on a bite of lasagna and lets that particular thought float away unexplored.

 

“Any big plans for the weekend?” Seunghyun speaks up eventually.

 

“Just work.” Jiyong shrugs, then it sort of sinks in and, “ _Ohh_ , you mean Fourth of July. Um, Nora and I usually go out to Franklin Park by the lake to watch the fireworks.” He pushes a chunk of tomato around on his plate and doesn’t think of The Bet when he asks, “You?”

 

Licking his lips, Seunghyun shifts a little to the left--last bites of food forgotten and their knees barely grazing. He inhales slowly. “I was hoping you’d be interested in joining me, actually.”

 

Jiyong’s fork clatters onto the countertop. _Am I clairvoyant now or something?_ His widened eyes find Seunghyun’s and he’s surprised to see a hint of uncertainty there.

 

“Like...on a-- on, um,” he falters and then has to pause because he can’t believe he’s about to say this. “On a date?”

 

“On a date,” Seunghyun confirms, biting down on his lip even though it does nothing to hide his smirk.

 

“Wow,” Jiyong breathes.

 

He jams his fingers into his hair out of sheer astonishment. _Jesus. This is really happening, isn’t it_. Jiyong would check his pulse to make sure he isn’t actually dead, but he doesn’t have to--heart beating jackrabbit-quick in his chest.

 

Seunghyun nudges him with his knee; doesn’t pull it back afterwards.

 

“So...?”

 

“Y-yeah. Yes.”

 

And the way Seunghyun’s face sort of explodes with joy at his answer has his rabbit-heart feeling a bit too big for his ribcage. _Fuck, I really wanna kiss you_. Jiyong almost forgets himself and does it, too--a burst of courage (or maybe it’s just desire) making him sway closer, one of his hands tentatively moving to grip Seunghyun’s thigh. But it’s not meant to be, not right now, because the door to Soo Jin’s study clicks shut in the hallway and he can hear her footsteps drawing nearer.

 

He jerks away just as she parades into the kitchen, slamming his elbow against the counter in the process. _Fucking fuck, ow_. Jiyong winces and Seunghyun reaches out to see if he’s okay, but he shakes his head.

 

“Oh!” Soo Jin exclaims, spotting the two of them sitting there. “I didn’t know anyone was in here. Hello, boys.”

 

Luckily what she can’t see is their legs still pressed together. It’s bad enough that Jiyong’s cheeks are probably redder than a baboon’s ass.

 

“Afternoon, Mrs. Kwon.”

 

“Afternoon, Seunghyun.” She strides towards the fridge, sparing Jiyong a pointed glance when she says, “I hear from Alan that you’ll be done soon.”

 

“You heard correctly. The crew should have everything set by the end of next week.”

 

“The yard looks truly marvelous, I can’t thank you enough.”

 

In an effort to avoid any more of his mother’s not-so-subtle remarks, he gathers their plates and creeps towards the sink.

 

“Just doing our job,” Seunghyun murmurs. Jiyong can hear the smile in his voice and the squeak of his chair when he gets up. “The lasagna was excellent, by the way.”

 

 _No, no, whyyy would you say that?_ Jiyong cringes over his soapy hands. Maybe because he’s a lovely fucking human being? Although perhaps a little slow to have realized what he just did. Jiyong is _so_ dead.

 

“Oh, you’re too kind,” Soo Jin graciously replies.

 

“I guess I’ll, uh, head back.”

 

“Of course. See you later, Seunghyun.”

 

Even over the combination of running water and Seunghyun’s retreating boots, he can pluck out the delicate but disapproving sound of his mother clearing her throat. Though she waits until he’s finished to continue speaking, which means Jiyong takes his time drying his hands, and turns around. Soo Jin’s got her arms folded tight over her chest, expression deceptively calm.

 

“You’re feeding him now?” she asks, and he’s well aware that there’s more than one question hiding in her tone.

 

“Yeah.” Jiyong nods, pushing away from the sink and walking backwards on his way out. “He’s a sweet kid. Or have you changed your mind about that?”

 

The last thing he sees are his mom’s eyebrows vanishing beneath her bangs as she fights off an unexpected grin. He may have won this round. But Jiyong knows there’s A Conversation they’re going to have that he can’t run from forever.

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

Every single day leading up to Friday seemed to last twice as long as it was supposed to, time tottering around like Jiyong had nothing better to do than turn into a ball of nerves. He didn’t see Seunghyun all week, except for a brief few minutes at his house one morning before leaving for work. Though those were some pretty stellar minutes. Mostly because they exchanged numbers and Seunghyun laughed at one of his shitty jokes. He also asked if Nora could come with them to see the fireworks, otherwise he’d feel like a bad friend (which is more than he can say for her). Seunghyun told him it would be nice to get to know his assassin a little better and Jiyong just stood there with dumb, sparkly hearts in his eyes.

 

Now that it actually _is_ Friday, he wants all that time back, because he isn’t ready for this.

 

“I’m not ready for this!”

 

“Oh my god, would you shut up?” Nora complains, shaking Jiyong’s shoulders.

 

He goes limp in her grasp, head rolling to the side, and he glares at the pile of rumpled clothes on his bed. Even before Nora showed up, Jiyong was trying to decide what to wear. It’s ridiculous, really, since he always ends up choosing the very first thing he put on.

 

“No, but seriously,” he whines.

 

“I’m about three seconds away from smacking you.” Nora shoves him and he falls into his desk chair with a pitiful grunt.

 

“Maybe you should. I feel hysterical.”

 

She rolls her eyes. “When are we supposed to be meeting him again?”

 

“Seven. I think.” Jiyong checks his phone. It’s 5:43 and it takes an hour to get to Franklin Park from here. Leaping up from his seat, he frantically pats his jeans down to make sure he has his wallet and his house keys and _shit_ he needs to fix his hair again. Jiyong almost whimpers. “Should we go? We should probably go, let’s go.”

 

“Hey. Calm down, psycho.” Nora catches him by the cheeks and holds him still, looking directly into his eyes. “It’s okay. You’re fine.”

 

Jiyong sucks in a slow, unsteady breath and then lets it out. You would think he’s never done this before, given the way he’s behaving, but it doesn’t matter how many First Dates he’ll have in his life, because it never gets any easier.

 

“Just...please go easy on him,” Jiyong begs.

 

The sigh that leaves her lips is so patronizing, he almost flicks her on the nose for being a brat. Nora pats his face and steps away.

 

“I make no such promises.”

 

“ _Nora_.”

 

But despite his protests, she doesn’t answer immediately--Jiyong bounding after her down the stairs.

 

“You didn’t have to invite me, y’know,” Nora reminds him as they walk out his front door and into the humid evening. Jiyong stops in the middle of the driveway and pouts.

 

“Yes I did. We always go see the fireworks together.”

 

He doesn’t even really want to think of the first summer when they won’t.

 

“Ugh, Jiyonggg,” she groans, doubling back to loop an arm around his neck and drag him towards her car where it’s parked on the street.

 

Nora isn’t big on expressing herself with words, so he takes the gesture as it is: a declaration of her sincere, but often muted, affections.

 

And when she turns the stereo on nice and loud--windows down, thick air pushing through his fingers--Jiyong finds his zen. But it only lasts about half of the drive because the moment he lets himself start thinking about Seunghyun, he feels a little sick to his stomach and he can’t sit still. It really isn’t a matter of not being excited. Jiyong is definitely excited. He’s just a lot terrified on top of it, and the combination unleashes an avalanche of concerns Jiyong never had the guts to voice until now.

 

_What if we have nothing in common? What if Seunghyun decides hanging out with two teenagers might be kind of weird? Oh god, what if he realizes how boring I am and he never talks to me ever again? Seunghyun is seriously out of my league, why is this even happening? But he has to be interested. Right? If he just wanted to screw around, we could’ve done that weeks ago. Why is he interested? And why am I so fucking nervous?_

 

Jiyong has no answers to any of these questions.

 

“Yo, space cadet, we’re here,” Nora announces, shifting the car into park and cutting the engine.

 

He blinks away the fog and takes in the clusters of people migrating from the parking lot to the grass, arms laden with blankets and coolers and lawn chairs.

 

“We forgot the blanket, didn’t we.”

 

“Fuck.” Nora’s forehead hits the steering wheel, only to shoot up again a second later. “Oh hey, maybe your boyfriend remembered.”

 

“Not cute,” Jiyong sighs and ignores the impulse to punch her in the arm.

 

She responds with a nice, wide, shit-eating grin.

 

“No, I’m hilarious.”

 

He shakes his head, making himself undo the seat belt and climb out of the car before he can cause her bodily harm. Jiyong stands there for a moment and scans the crowd. Seunghyun said he’d meet them in the parking lot, but when he cranes his neck to peer over the rows and rows of cars, there’s no sign of him. That is, until a wide hand presses lightly against his back, inspiring a familiar tingle to wind its way up his spine.

 

“Looking for me?” Seunghyun asks, mouth entirely too close to Jiyong’s ear. He flinches; a knee-jerk reaction.

 

“Mhmm!” he hums, nodding a little spastically as he whirls around.

 

 _Fuck, you’re so hot_ is the first thought that pops into his head when he meets Seunghyun’s gaze. Jiyong swallows, actively persuading his eyes to _not_ give him the once-over they so desperately want. But his resolve gets blown to bits the instant Seunghyun smiles at him like he’s genuinely happy they’re occupying the same space. It’s still weird to see him out of his work clothes. It’s still weird to see him in any context outside of his parents’ house. And it’s still really fucking weird that this is technically supposed to be a date, even with the addition of his big-mouthed, third wheel of a best friend. Though Jiyong doesn’t get the chance to salivate over Seunghyun’s blissfully tight jeans or the way his t-shirt looks feather soft, because said third wheel decides to make her presence known again.

 

“Aha! I knew it,” Nora exclaims from the other side of the car.

 

Jiyong frowns. “Knew what?”

 

“That he’d have a blanket.” She beams at Seunghyun and it’s terrifically off-putting. “We forgot to bring ours.”

 

“Good thing I’m here, then,” Seunghyun replies, beaming back.

 

The uneasiness Jiyong’s been fighting swells in his gut. Nora is up to something. She’s never this...this _friendly_ when it comes to new people, particularly new people that Jiyong happens to form romantic attachments to. Which is not okay. He steps closer to Seunghyun, placing a hand on his arm and _wow, I didn’t even have to think about that_. Seunghyun’s eyebrows raise in silent question. Jiyong tells himself to focus and not just…stare longingly, because he needs to say this before Nora walks over.

 

“Don’t, um,” he starts, the sound of the driver’s side door closing making him flinch again. Jiyong laughs quietly and bites his lip while Seunghyun peers down at him, amused. “Just don’t let her scare you away. Nora likes to make people jump through hoops before she decides to play nice. It’s ridiculous but--”

 

“Hey!” Nora’s sunny voice cuts him off, arm wrapping around his shoulders as she insinuates herself between the two of them. “Stop talking shit about me. Only I get to do that.”

 

“I was trying to give Seunghyun a fighting chance.”

 

Nora tsks and directs them all towards the park. “It’s no fun if you warn them first, man.”

 

Groaning, Jiyong sags under the weight of her half-embrace, looking at Seunghyun to his left.

 

“I’m sorry in advance.”

 

When Nora and Seunghyun both snort in unison, he can’t hide his grin. Maybe he’s overreacting. Maybe this will be painless for once. Jiyong breathes in, relaxing marginally. But he tenses up again a second later--a hand landing on the back of his head and long fingers sifting through his hair.

 

“Don’t worry about me,” Seunghyun assures him.

 

Jiyong has to resist leaning into the brief caress. He is not a cat. (Actually he might be a cat, because the idea of nuzzling against any part of Seunghyun’s body with his face sounds like the best idea he’s ever had.). Jiyong is probably incapable of not worrying about him, though. Seunghyun’s kind of the one thing he worries about most these days and it makes him feel like such a loser.

 

Especially since he can’t shake the anxious flutter in his stomach as they cut across the grass, weaving their way around the patchwork of blankets and hyperactive children. There’s a large hill they always camp out on at the back of the park. Not just for the amazing view, but it’s the best place to sit if they want to smoke and not piss anyone off. All the other high school kids flock there and the adults tend to turn a blind eye. Except for that one summer when a senior from their school got too drunk and tumbled down the hill, taking out an entire family and their dog in the process. That was fun.

 

Once they reach the top and get settled, Jiyong watches Seunghyun and Nora sit down on the blanket and then realizes he has a problem. Does he sit in the middle at an equal distance from each of them? Will Nora be offended if he sits closer to Seunghyun or is Jiyong out of his fucking mind for thinking about this as seriously as he is? Thankfully, Nora saves him the trouble, grumbling as she rummages through her bag.

 

“ _Goddamnit_ , I left my lighter in the car.” She sighs, pushing herself up from the ground. “I’ll be right back.”

 

Then she’s off, running down the hill with arms spread wide and her curls flying out behind her. Jiyong huffs, toes his shoes off, and then counts to five before taking a seat. If his knee happens to be digging slightly into Seunghyun’s thigh, well, he’s not going to panic. Not outwardly, anyway. He gives Seunghyun a sideways glance, catching his gaze easily because Seunghyun is already staring at him. Jiyong feels the shy tug of his lips and he concentrates on his hands instead.

 

“So…” he clears his throat, short fingernails picking at the hem off his jeans. “This isn’t weird for you, or anything?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Jiyong shrugs. “I dunno, hanging around with a couple of teenagers.”

 

This earns him a quiet chuckle and he musters the courage to initiate eye-contact instead of avoid it. _Big mistake_. Seunghyun’s leaning back on his hands, long, lean body stretching out for miles. It’s no surprise that he gets distracted for a second (or twenty).

 

“We’re just people, Jiyong. What’s age got to do with it?”

 

“Some people take issue with age differences. I figured I’d ask,” Jiyong explains.

 

Seunghyun’s mouth lifts in a smirk. “Which is why you freak out every time your parents are around.”

 

“No,” he answers too fast, receiving a quirked eyebrow, and he caves. “Okay, a little, yeah. But it’s mostly because I don’t want you to get in trouble for “ _fraternization_ ”.”

 

Jiyong even makes air quotes when he says it and feels remarkably silly as a result.

 

“Ahh, is that what we’re doing?” Seunghyun drawls, head cocked to the side and looking so entertained. “I told you not to worry about me. Alan won’t care. And it’s not like I make it a habit to ask client’s kids out on dates.”

 

“Yeah? How am I supposed to know that?” He’s kidding, but only partially.

 

“You’re the only one, I swear. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

 

True to his word, Seunghyun uses one finger to draw the shape of a small ‘x’ on his chest. Jiyong, meanwhile, is in awe and thinks maybe he was wrong. Seunghyun really is a mythical creature. Because there’s no way, out of all the people in this town and all the surrounding towns and in the entire fucking universe, that Jiyong ended up on the radar of Seunghyun “I Belong In A Fairy Tale” Choi. He lets out a defeated sort of laugh and his eyebrows wrinkle and collide and--

 

“What?” Seunghyun presses.

 

Jiyong shakes his head.

 

“Nothing.”

 

But clearly that won’t do. Seunghyun sits up until they’re shoulder to shoulder, legs folding in until their knees are overlapping, and he ducks down to force Jiyong to look at him.

 

“C’mon, tell me.”

 

All this contact has his heartbeat cranking up a few dozen notches. Jiyong swallows the lump in his throat, returning Seunghyun’s concerned gaze. “I, uh-- I’m just kinda stumped, is all,” he admits, voice just barely above a whisper.

 

“Stumped?”

 

“Yeah.” Jiyong nods, steeling himself before asking the The Big Question, “...why me?”

 

The way Seunghyun’s expression morphs from curious to sad is sort of incredible. His eyebrows curve upwards, like the fact that Jiyong doesn’t know is too depressing for him to even contemplate. His mouth parts and goes slack. And his eyes...his eyes are about as devastating as ever, which makes it almost impossible to keep staring into them. Jiyong’s breath catches, feeling the slide of Seunghyun’s hand over his when he links their fingers. It’s an unfamiliar weight, though not an unwelcome one.

 

“A lot of reasons,” Seunghyun murmurs eventually, his lips tugging at the corners. “You’re funny and adorable and I think probably a lot smarter than you let on. Is it really so hard to believe that I’m interested in knowing you?”

 

 _Dreaming. I must be dreaming_. Jiyong can’t take the sincerity in those words, the sincerity bleeding out from every single one of Seunghyun’s _pores_ for christ’s sake. _You’re not real_. He averts his eyes and laughs, though it’s strained, and he shoves his free hand into his hair.

 

“Not sure how you came to that conclusion. I’m really, really lame and not cool and only occasionally funny,” Jiyong rambles in an attempt to diffuse the tension vibrating through him. Through everything.

 

“Then we can be lame and occasionally funny together,” Seunghyun says, calmly, like stating that he wants to _be_ with Jiyong isn’t completely fucking mind-blowing.

 

“You’re serious.”

 

“Yup.”

 

He sucks in a breath, amazed. Bowled over. His socks have been knocked off somewhere into the next decade. And Seunghyun just keeps looking directly at him, serene, fingers warm in Jiyong’s grasp. They stay like that for a while, not talking. Jiyong wouldn’t know what to say, anyway, and if Seunghyun is content to sit there with this pleased-as-punch smile on his stupid face, then Jiyong is, too.

 

“Have you guys been staring at each other like that the entire time I was gone?” Nora asks, tone flat. He nearly forgot she was here.

 

“Yes,” Jiyong replies without turning away and Seunghyun’s eyes crinkle as he grins.

 

She scoffs. “Well you can stop now.”

 

“What if we don’t want to?” Seunghyun counters. Jiyong chokes on another laugh.

 

“Then I’m not sharing.”

 

Which reminds him where they are and why they’re here and his hand shoots up to cover his mouth. “Shit, I didn’t even ask. Do you smoke pot? I kind of assumed, after that time in the kitchen.”

 

“Once in a while, yeah.”

 

Jiyong smiles. “Cool.”

 

It’s a miracle that Nora (bless her sometimes benevolent heart) doesn’t actually treat Seunghyun like the enemy. Though she does take on the role of Quizmaster as they pass around the joint, waiting for the sky to shed the last of its fading blush. He’s not sure why she gave in so quickly, but he’s not going to question it. Jiyong just hopes it means what he thinks it means and that Seunghyun somehow passed her bizarre friendship test.

 

“You’re not from around here, right?” Nora asks, taking a hit before handing it over to Jiyong.

 

“No, I grew up on the West coast.”

 

She rolls over onto her side, head propped up in her hand and a frown marring her face.

 

“What in god’s name possessed you to stay in bumblefuck suburbia after graduation?”

 

“Work,” Seunghyun replies simply.

 

“Was it your dream to spend the rest of your life doing manual labor for rich assholes or something?” Nora nudges Jiyong with her foot. “No offense, Ji.”

 

“None taken,” he says around an exhale of smoke; watches it drift slowly into the air.

 

Seunghyun snorts, taking the joint when Jiyong offers it, their fingers connecting for a lot longer than is probably necessary to pass an object from point A to point B. But he’s enjoying the game and the giddy swirling in his chest.

 

“Not exactly, it just turned out that way.” Seunghyun flicks some ash into the grass, observing the glowing cherry between his knuckles before he continues. “I like what I do. And I’m good at it.”

 

“Mhmmmm.” Nora waggles her eyebrows and dissolves into a giggle fit, struggling to maintain her composure and catch her breath. Eventually she sobers and then announces very seriously, “I think Jiyong would agree.”

 

In retaliation, Jiyong rips up a handful of grass, throwing it at her head. He would bet money that the people sitting all the way down at the water can hear her cackling. Seunghyun just leans into Jiyong’s side, looking super baked with his peacefully amused expression and drooping eyelids. He’s so cute it’s gross and Jiyong is buzzed enough to extend a hand and let it trail along Seunghyun’s forearm--following it until his fingers slide into the gaps between Seunghyun’s fingers. Jiyong bites down on a grin. He likes the way Seunghyun’s calluses feel against his palm. He’s pretty sure he’ll like the way they feel against other parts of his body, too, but he probably shouldn’t be thinking about that right now.

 

Instead, Jiyong decides to keep going with the interrogation, his curiosity winning out. “You said you majored in business. Why business?”

 

“I, um…” Seunghyun pauses for a long beat, laughing and shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

 

“Join the fucking club,” Nora mumbles from the crook of her arm.

 

When Seunghyun appears confused, he takes it upon himself to elaborate.

 

“She’s an Anthropology major, but she only chose that because it seemed vaguely more interesting than any of her other options. And I don’t have a major, because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with my life.”

 

“Not even a little bit?”

 

“Not even a little bit. Told you I was lame, didn’t I?” Jiyong mutters wryly, giving him a half smile and squeezing his hand gently. He’s not bitter about it, it’s just the truth. “Hey, I still get to be president, though, right?” he asks, sticking his shoeless foot into Nora’s armpit and making her giggle again.

 

“Yes, Jiyong.”

 

“Sweet.”

 

Stealing the joint from Seunghyun’s mouth, Jiyong finishes it off. And just in time, too, because the first firework of the night zips into the sky and explodes in a blossom of red and green. Nora flails beside him at the loud noise, bolting up from her sprawl and clapping excitedly. For a good ten minutes, all three of them get sucked into a bit of a trance, totally absorbed by the bursts of sound and color. Well, mostly. Jiyong’s focus is torn between the fireworks and the brush of Seunghyun’s thumb over his. He can hear Nora’s quiet snickering at all the _oohs_ and _aahs_ coming from the crowd below them--the faint chatter of other people sitting nearby. But the background noises turn subdued; muffled, because there are a pair of soft lips at his ear. Warm breath fanning across his cheek.

 

“I’m really happy you said yes, y’know.”

 

Seunghyun’s voice rumbles through more than just his ear, Jiyong sensing it in every point of contact, and he relishes the feeling--the combination of words and cadence and the echoing boom of every firework shell reverberating inside of him. He shifts slowly, nose catching on Seunghyun’s cheek when he leans in to respond.

 

“I’m amazed you thought I was worth asking.”

 

Jiyong draws back to gauge his reaction. A couple fireworks take to the sky and burst, illuminating Seunghyun’s face. Their gold shimmer reflects in the dark circles of his eyes and Jiyong catches a hint of the same somber vibe from earlier. _I really need to quit bumming you out_.

 

“You don’t think very highly of yourself, do you,” Seunghyun murmurs.

 

He glances away. “Not really, no.”

 

Adjusting his grip, Seunghyun holds Jiyong’s hand more firmly, pulling it into his lap. Jiyong can’t help but sway closer.

 

“What’s it gonna take to convince you you’re not dreaming?”

 

 _Are you a mind-reader now?_ He lets out a near-silent laugh. “How’d you know that’s what I was thinking?”

 

“Because you look like you wanna pinch yourself every few seconds.”

 

Another set of fireworks sail into the night--loud and massive and radiant. Only Jiyong isn’t paying their brilliance any attention, eyes locked on Seunghyun’s. He breathes in. Seunghyun smells like aftershave.

 

“So pinch me,” Jiyong whispers.

 

In the span of one heartbeat, Seunghyun tips forward, fitting their mouths together. And regardless of how much he’s _ached_ for this moment, it’s still a shock to his system. _We’re kissing. Seunghyun is_ kissing _me_. Jiyong’s high brain is kind of on the sluggish side, but he does smile, rocking towards him--eager and so, so pleased. What he’s not expecting is for Seunghyun to capture his bottom lip between his teeth and bite down hard enough that Jiyong moans. _Holy fuck, there’s the pinch_. He cups Seunghyun’s face with one hand, equally unprepared when a slick tongue licks across his lip in what he gathers is supposed to be an apology, though Seunghyun should be anything but sorry.

 

“Still think you’re dreaming?”

 

It requires a number of seconds for Jiyong to realize he has to answer with words, his mouth tingling and sore when he opens it to speak.

 

“No,” he pants, not quite breathless. More exhilarated. “Doesn’t mean you should stop, though.”

 

Seunghyun grins, wasting no time in reclaiming Jiyong’s lips. They’re not frantic, but they’re not shy, either, kisses perfectly messy. Playful. Jiyong laughs, his fingers delving into Seunghyun’s hair while their tongues meet and part and slide together again. He’s relatively certain he’s never enjoyed kissing anyone this much before in his entire life.

 

“Hey horndogs, you’re gonna miss the finale if you keep sucking face,” Nora interjects, feigning irritation. Jiyong picks out the smile in her voice anyway.

 

They _could_ watch the finale. They could do a lot of things, but he’s pretty content with his current situation, thank you very much. And it’s not lost on Jiyong, how cheesy it is that there are actual fireworks exploding above them while metaphorical ones detonate in his head. He always thought that kind of romantic bullshit was so stupid. Though he might be willing to change his mind, given the fact that Seunghyun is still grinning--hand curling around the back of Jiyong’s neck and kissing him harder in obvious protest of stopping.

 

The barrage of sound when the finale hits is almost paralyzing, each thunderous pop making his heart throb. Jiyong is overstimulated in the most unbelievable way, and he’d ask Seunghyun to pinch him again, except he already knows he couldn’t handle it. Not without crawling on top of him. Something Jiyong would really prefer to do sans audience of best friend and ocean of total strangers.

 

So, he eases off slightly, their lips touching but not moving. He tilts his head, kissing the quirked corner of Seunghyun’s mouth. Seunghyun strokes the edge of his jaw, calloused thumb rough against his skin, and Jiyong commits it all to memory. Because it’ll never happen like this twice. And he wants to remember it forever.

 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

That night before falling asleep, Jiyong sends out five text messages…

 

Two to Annie:

 

 _I hope you get alcohol poisoning  
_ _from all the vodka Felix is about  
_ _to buy you._

_Or at least the worst hangover  
_ _in the history of hangovers._

 

Two to Felix:

 

_Say goodbye to your dignity._

_And your vintage porn, say  
_ _goodbye to that too._

 

And one to Nora:

 

_Thank you._

 

It’s pretty much just the last one that matters and he fights against the 50 lb weights attached to his eyelids while he waits for her response.

 

 _i cldn’t b mean 2 him, he  
_ _looks at u like u invented  
_ _the sun_

_He does not._

_does 2. wake up & smell  
_ _the seunghyun scented  
_ _coffee dipshit_

_or was his tongue in ur  
_ _mouth not clear enuf 4  
_ _u???_

_He might need to repeat  
_ _himself a few times._

_lmao “a few times” uh huh_

_just spare me the lurid deets  
_ _when u start fucking each  
_ _other’s brains out ok_

_I make no such promises._

_ur a bitch_

_Sweet dreams, Nora._

 

Jiyong closes his eyes finally, but he can’t slip under, hovering on the brink of unconsciousness with a horribly delighted smile on his face. How can he sleep when he’s still thinking about that kiss? Reliving it over and over again until he veers further away from dreamland and much, much closer to Frustratingly Aroused. It’ll be a miracle if he can survive five minutes with Seunghyun now and _not_ jump his bones. Jiyong supposes he’ll find out on Sunday. Because Seunghyun asked if he wanted to hang out whenever he was done at the theater--said he’d meet Jiyong there since he doesn’t live that far away. He can make it two more days, right?

 

Groaning into his pillows, Jiyong rolls over, throwing his blanket over his head and praying for a 48hr coma.

 

 


	3. Part 3

 

It’s six-thirty when Jiyong finishes his shift and clocks out, strolling through the lobby in his button-up and perpetually hideous tie. He’d meant to bring a change of clothes with him, but he forgot, and he smooths a nervous hand over his chest as he approaches Seunghyun who’s leaning on the wall outside. Jiyong feels kind of really nasty after hours of marinating in eau de fake butter and of course, _of course_ , Seunghyun looks effortlessly like a fucking Calvin Klein model in his white t-shirt and blue jeans. _You suck_. Jiyong wants to lick him from head to toe.

 

“Hey,” Seunghyun greets, eyes lighting up and crinkling merrily as he smiles.

 

“Hi,” Jiyong replies, incapable of not smiling back, though his is probably a lot more awkward.

 

And then...nothing.

 

They stand there in mutual silence for a hot second and he almost wishes he had a cue card or something, because what happens next? Yeah, _talking_ , he gets that. But what’s allowed and what isn’t? Like, Jiyong would be super okay with kissing him right now despite feeling like he rolled around in a pile of stale popcorn. He thinks Seunghyun might be okay with that, too, but he chickens out, ruffling his hair and staring down at his feet. So it’s a surprise when a long-fingered hand extends to grasp his tie, pulling on it a little until Jiyong shuffles closer.

 

“I don’t think I’m ever gonna get over how great this tie is,” Seunghyun says, voice low.

 

He breathes out an unsteady laugh. It’s crazy that it takes essentially nothing to make him flustered, his stomach already twisting from being in Seunghyun’s general vicinity. From simple words uttered in a familiar tone and the way those fingers are holding him in place.

 

“You can have it. It’ll probably look better on you, anyway.”

 

Seunghyun hums in mock disapproval. “I’m sure your dad wouldn’t be too happy about that. You really hate it that much?”

 

Jiyong lifts his head, eyes meeting Seunghyun’s briefly before darting away. He stuffs his hands into his pockets because he doesn’t know what to do with them and then shrugs.

 

“It might be growing on me.”

 

“I can give you one of mine, if you want,” Seunghyun offers. Jiyong can see him smirk from the corner of his eye. “There aren’t very many opportunities to wear ties in the landscaping business.”

 

They’ve been, what? _Dating_? Or whatever, for less than two days and Seunghyun wants to give him a tie. Jiyong doesn’t know why that’s so funny, but he laughs again, smiling up at him, totally fucking hopeless.

 

“Okay,” he agrees, nodding. “Sure, why not.”

 

“Then consider it done.” Seunghyun’s smirk deepens and he lets go of the accessory in question, knuckles grazing Jiyong’s chest as it slides through his fingers, laying it flat.

 

Jiyong worries his lip, nibbling on it harder than usual. He watches dark eyes flicker down to his mouth and over his face. If Seunghyun keeps staring at him like that, he’s going to die. Or start humping him right here on the sidewalk. _This can’t be healthy_. Jiyong nearly whines, fisting his hands in his pockets because it would be inappropriate to molest Seunghyun in public. Inappropriate, but so intensely satisfying. He’s in the middle of hating his brain for even giving him the idea when Seunghyun breaks the silence.

 

“So, at the risk of being too forward, my apartment is just around the corner. Do you, um,” Seunghyun pauses, appearing unsure of himself while rubbing at the side of his neck, “Do you maybe wanna come over? I didn’t really have anything planned and it’s kinda hard to top fireworks, but--”

 

“Yeah,” Jiyong interrupts, quickly removing a hand from his pocket to take one of Seunghyun’s, pushing their fingers together and letting out a slow breath. “I do.”

 

Is he blushing? He’s probably blushing, _god_ , is there any way for him to somehow become less embarrassing? No? Great.

 

But Seunghyun is clutching his hand tighter, his grin broad and lovely and _you and your goddamned dimples_. He isn’t strong enough to resist this kind of shit, not at full force and one foot away from him, so he makes a decision. Stepping forward, Jiyong places his other hand on Seunghyun’s waist, listening to his impulses by pressing in close to leave a kiss on his cheek. His preciously dimpled and infinitely edible cheek. Jiyong needs to control himself or else he’s going to start gnawing on Seunghyun for real.

 

“What was that for?” Seunghyun asks when he steps away.

 

Jiyong shakes his head. “No reason.” _A million reasons_.

 

The arched eyebrow he gets in return says Seunghyun doesn’t believe him. Is he really that easy to read? Nora would probably cackle at him for even asking. But Jiyong’s not about to cave this time, drawing his bottom lip into his mouth again and scuffing a shoe on the pavement. His face is on fire.

 

Seunghyun emits a gravelly noise caught somewhere between a laugh and a groan, tugging on their clasped hands and muttering, “You need to stop doing that.”

 

Jiyong smiles. “What, kissing you?”

 

“ _No_ , never, uh, never stop doing that.” Seunghyun’s laughter sounds a bit panicked now. “Nevermind, forget it.” He sighs, leading them away from the theater. “Ready?”

 

Ready for what, exactly? Jiyong is both anticipating and dreading being completely alone with Seunghyun, but he wouldn’t say he was ready. _When will I ever be?_ His anxiety has dwindled, though, knowing he’s not the only one who’s nervous. And it’s taking a while for this to really sink in, the fact that he has the ability to shake Seunghyun’s confidence and make him just as awkward. Jiyong’s never felt like he had that kind of power over anyone and it fucks with his head. In a good way. He thinks about this in depth while they walk, not paying attention to where they are, just their hands and the way their feet look moving together over the sidewalk.

 

Jiyong continues to have an extended surreal headtrip once they’re in Seunghyun’s apartment, a third floor one bedroom that he’s magically transformed into a small jungle.

 

“Holy shit.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Seunghyun replies timidly and locks the door behind them. “It’s becoming a problem.”

 

“No,” Jiyong flashes him another smile over his shoulder. “It’s great.”

 

He toes his shoes off and then ventures further into the apartment, tips of his fingers brushing wide, emerald leaves and poking at the dangling arms of a hanging spider plant. There are plants literally everywhere--on the windowsills potted in oversized coffee mugs, suspended from the ceiling in clear glass bubbles, tucked away on shelves and behind pieces of furniture. Jiyong finds hulking green masses in almost every corner and as he explores, the occasional burst of vibrant color. An orchid in the kitchen, tiger lillies on top of a small bookcase, geraniums on the balcony. It doesn’t feel claustrophobic, either. Intense, yeah, but beautiful. He imagines the apartment itself was quite dull before Seunghyun got to it; breathing some life into 800 square feet of white walls and uneven wooden floors.

 

“How?” is all Jiyong can ask, standing in the center of the living room while Seunghyun observes him silently.

 

“Copious amounts of free time.” Seunghyun’s mouth quirks. “Having a mother obsessed with gardening also helps.”

 

“Is that why you started working for Alan?”

 

“More or less.”

 

Jiyong leans on the back of the couch, eyes still roving all over the room--taking everything in, devouring every detail. He refuses to wonder what Seunghyun’s bedroom looks like; if there are more flowers there, too. And suddenly he’s hit with reality again. _I’m in his home. There’s no one here but us. Anything could happen_. A wave of self-consciousness overwhelms him and he folds his arms, posture hunched and head bowed.

 

“Are you hungry at all?”

 

Seunghyun’s question startles Jiyong, his head jerking up. “No. But thank you.”

 

“Nothing to drink? Water? Juice?”

 

He grins. “Seunghyun, I’m fine.”

 

“Okay,” Seunghyun says over a laugh, pocketing his keys as he wanders towards the window to check on what looks like some kind of herb.

 

The sun sits low in the sky, not yet hiding behind the neighboring buildings, and it spills onto the floor in sheets of gold. It bathes Seunghyun in gold as well, catching on strands of his hair and the web of his eyelashes. Jiyong watches him carefully inspect the oval-shaped leaves (basil? he can’t tell) and resists the temptation to swoon. Because this gorgeous human has an entire apartment full of _plant children_ , who are obviously cherished, and it’s hard not to let that give him a serious case of feelings. He’s reminded of the daydream he had, envisioning Seunghyun on his couch eating cereal in his underwear, and he edits it to include this new information. _I bet he consults them before changing the channel_. Jiyong covers his mouth as he snorts to himself.

 

“What?” Seunghyun straightens, narrowing his eyes.

 

He looks so totally _not_ intimidating that it only makes Jiyong laugh harder. “I’m sorry,” he says, fighting the giggles so he can breathe and maybe string some words together. “This...is super random, but do you watch cartoons?”

 

His answer comes tangled in an amused huff. “Yes.”

 

Jiyong nods, sobering. Sort of. The edges of his lips keep trembling.

 

“Good. We couldn’t be friends anymore if you didn’t.”

 

“I was actually wondering if there were any deal-breakers,” Seunghyun admits, drifting away from the window and closer to Jiyong. “Should I start listing all my weird habits now, or would you prefer to be surprised later?”

 

Jiyong’s mouth wins, splitting his face in two. Having it put like that (having them put like that), into a perspective that extends beyond this exact moment, makes him feel light. Untethered. He peeks at Seunghyun through the fringe of his bangs. “Surprised.”

 

“You sure? I don’t want you to walk out on me when you discover I sometimes leave dishes in the sink for more than a day. Or sing obnoxiously in the shower.” With a teasing glint in his eyes, Seunghyun stops drifting, claiming the spot between Jiyong’s bent legs as he continues. “I read the encyclopedia when I can’t sleep, I eat pasta sauce by itself directly from the jar, and I am the greatest blanket thief you’ll ever encounter.”

 

“I dunno, that sounds like some pretty solid advertising to me.”

 

“I always thought so.”

 

When Seunghyun raises a hand to sweep Jiyong’s hair away from his forehead, his arms unfurl and fall into his lap almost without thought. Like it’s instinctual to allow Seunghyun the freedom to take up every inch of his personal space. But the touch only lasts a few seconds and he misses it as soon as it’s gone.

 

“Well, you already know about my weed-fueled breakfast experiments,” Jiyong muses, pausing to think of more potentially damning facts. “I like to shower with the lights off, I’m merciless when it comes to cuddling, and Nora complains that I talk in my sleep, but I don’t believe her.”

 

Seunghyun smiles, weight shifting until his leg connects with the inside of Jiyong’s knee. “Merciless, huh?”

 

“Yeah.” Jiyong pushes back, fusing their legs together. “As in take no prisoners.”

 

“I think I can handle that.”

 

Looking up, he sees the affection written right there on Seunghyun’s face plain as day. Which is so incredibly bizarre. Bizarre and amazing and kind of really wonderful. It has this itch tingling in his fingers--to curl them around Seunghyun’s hips, to pull him into his body and just...hold him.

 

Except he doesn’t.

 

Jiyong tugs at the knot of his tie, since he’s fucking overheating at the thought of _hugging_ Seunghyun, and moves to stand. _Wow, bad idea_. He inhales sharply through his nose. There’s so much less distance now, the itch spreading to the rest of his limbs. Seunghyun doesn’t move away, if anything he leans in, and Jiyong loses it.

 

“Can we make a deal?” he blurts.

 

Seunghyun’s hands lift easily, just barely grazing his palms along Jiyong’s arms. He swallows a gasp.

 

“Depends on the terms.”

 

But Jiyong’s throat goes tight and dry, and Seunghyun keeps looking at his mouth with the kind of intent that makes it so hard to think. Closing his eyes briefly, he summons courage from who the fuck knows where-- _don’t cave, just do_ \--and places tentative hands on Seunghyun’s sides. Jiyong feels the swell of his ribcage when he breathes in. Feels heat and the glide of fabric over smooth skin, still itching for more.

 

“I won’t pretend I can keep my hands to myself if you won’t,” he murmurs, voice small.

 

“That sounds fair,” Seunghyun replies, just as quiet.

 

He nods, half-paralyzed because even though he’s taken initiative he doesn’t know what to do with it. You would think he’d never touched another body before, the way he’s practically quaking in his figurative boots, but Seunghyun’s existence tends to leave him a little on the inept end of the spectrum. Jiyong’s fingers twitch, a fierce blush spreading over his cheeks, and his heart apparently thinks it’s a battering ram now. He should really do something. Something that isn’t staring at Seunghyun like a virginal deer in the headlights.

 

Thankfully, Seunghyun is more than willing to put up with his awkwardness. Because he smiles--this super charming, overwhelmingly boyish smile--and he cups Jiyong’s face, cradling it gently. The gesture is all he needs to erupt into giddy laughter and it has the pressure in his chest breaking down into tiny pieces.

 

“Relax,” Seunghyun says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

 

“I’m trying.”

 

Which he does. And then promptly surrenders. Raises the white flag. Throws in the fucking towel. Clutching at thin cotton, Jiyong closes the remaining distance, his mouth just barely connecting with Seunghyun’s. There’s a warehouse full of butterflies crammed inside of him, but he suffers through it. Because the way Seunghyun sinks into him is nothing short of exceptional.

 

Jiyong emits a small noise of contentment, arms curling around Seunghyun’s waist to slide unsteady hands underneath his t-shirt, and he feels the hitch in Seunghyun’s breath more than hears it.

 

“Is this okay?” he whispers, thumbs stroking at the dip in his back.

 

Seunghyun’s eyes are slow to open and he stares at Jiyong for a long moment before speaking. “If it’s okay with you.”

 

“Yeah.” Jiyong nods again. “Definitely more than okay.”

 

He’s pretty sure they’re having the same conversation and not two entirely different ones. Otherwise this could get even more awkward. But Seunghyun confirms it for him when he laughs slightly and his eyebrows knit together.

 

“I just, um. I don’t want you to think I brought you here for this.”

 

“I know you didn’t. And we don’t even have to, y’know, do anything.” Jiyong draws him a bit closer on impulse, trying not to make it awkward anyway and probably failing. “Unless...unless you want to.”

 

“Do you want to?” Seunghyun’s eyebrows shoot up and Jiyong nearly bursts out laughing a second time.

 

 _Do I want to? Wow, you are so dumb_. This whole talking about sex without actually saying it thing is kind of ridiculous. And while Jiyong is trying really hard not be a nervous wreck, he’s also really done with being a coward. He got this far and Seunghyun is still here. He can stop being afraid.

 

So Jiyong smiles and tilts his head, kissing Seunghyun firmly on the mouth, and he lets the words spill before he can second-guess himself.

 

“Seunghyun, I’ve wanted you to fuck me for over a month. Does that answer your question?”

 

There’s a pause where Jiyong can actually see this information being digested, Seunghyun biting his lip and appearing overly contemplative.

 

“I’m sorry, I uh, didn’t quite catch that,” Seunghyun deadpans, though his eyes are gleaming.

 

He has half a mind to pinch the smug asshole. Jiyong snorts and leans in, lips brushing Seunghyun’s cheek on their way to his ear. His stomach tenses in an attempt to keep the laughter in.

 

“Please have sex with me, you idiot,” he mumbles.

 

“So polite,” Seunghyun responds wryly.

 

“Ugh, shut up.”

 

Jiyong refuses to give him the chance to utter another word and smothers Seunghyun’s lips with his own so he can’t talk. It’s a mutually beneficial solution and he’s quite happy with the results, his arms coiling tighter as he licks into Seunghyun’s mouth and feels a hand grip a fistful of his hair. _God, yes_. He moans, doing his best to solder their bodies together because he wants to make up for all the time spent not touching. Not kissing. It’s like he can’t get close enough. Jiyong desperately wants the weight of Seunghyun on top of him, pinning him to the bed, the floor, the wall. Anything. He gasps, releasing another pleased noise when long fingers find their way to his ass and squeeze and his head spins with how remarkable it is to finally have Seunghyun’s hands on him.

 

Eager for friction, Jiyong responds with an encouraging roll of his hips, earning himself an obscene sigh as Seunghyun bites at his mouth--sucking on his bottom lip, nipping at his chin, the ridges of his teeth dragging over soft skin to attack Jiyong’s neck. It’s perfect. Really, really perfect. And Jiyong is already alarmingly turned on just from the way Seunghyun is holding him, so this new sensation inevitably goes straight to his dick and he shivers, head lolling as he bucks against Seunghyun’s thigh.

 

But even though all of this is really fucking awesome, there are still too many layers between them. Because he would really like Seunghyun to get naked. So Jiyong can get naked and then they can be naked together. However, Seunghyun seems pretty preoccupied with swirling his tongue over Jiyong’s throat. Which, yes, feels incredible, but he’s greedy now. Jiyong slides his hands up the length of Seunghyun’s back, taking the material of his shirt with them. He gets no reaction and laughs.

 

“Off,” he pants, tugging on the t-shirt. “C’mon.”

 

Seunghyun’s answering laughter hits him in all the right places and Jiyong can’t help but shudder, especially not when that mouth is still attached to his neck and painting it with lazy, open-mouthed kisses. _Jesus, you really are gonna kill me_. Jiyong comes very close to whimpering, distractedly yanking the shirt in a last ditch effort to get what he wants.

 

“Okay, okay, hold on,” Seunghyun mutters and Jiyong can feel the width of his smile against his skin.

 

They part briefly, Jiyong helping him remove the article of clothing and tossing it on the floor and... _fucking hell_.

 

He freezes, needing a moment to drink in the sight of Seunghyun shirtless--black hair mussed and lips wet. It doesn’t matter that he’s seen it before because he’s never seen it like _this_. Jiyong’s breath comes in shallow bursts as he lets his fingers stroke an aimless path down Seunghyun’s chest and over his stomach, grinning when taut muscles jump under his touch. The kicker, though, is when he traces a new path back the way he came and meets a pair of intensely focused eyes at the end of it. Seunghyun curls his hand around Jiyong’s tie, gaze so heavy it’s almost incapacitating, and pulls. Not demanding or rough, just a gentle suggestion of movement. And Jiyong goes readily, letting Seunghyun draw him in and tease at his mouth with more slow kisses. To the point where he thinks he might be in pain, dizzy laughter bubbling out of him when Seunghyun nudges their noses together. Because his heart hurts and that’s not supposed to happen, right? Not yet.

 

Overcome, Jiyong latches onto Seunghyun’s face, kissing him hard enough that they almost stumble into one of countless plant babies and topple to the floor.

 

“ _Shit_ , sorry,” he cries.

 

Seunghyun chuckles, trying to keep them vertical. “It’s okay.”

 

“Moving this to your bedroom would probably be less hazardous,” Jiyong mumbles into his chest to hide reddening cheeks. “Unless your bedroom is also a jungle.”

 

“I’ll show you.”

 

Taking Jiyong’s hand, Seunghyun steps away and grins, leading him through a door to his left. It’s darker here, the window facing South instead of West, and save for the three small plants on the windowsill and a vase of flowers on the side table, it’s unexpectedly spartan. Just a wide bed and a dresser and a framed painting on one wall. Jiyong wonders why there’s such a contrast, but before he can ask, Seunghyun’s fingers are already on him again. His lips as well, and Jiyong can’t really focus on more than that. Doesn’t want to.

 

He starts to undo the buttons of his shirt while Seunghyun loosens his tie and lets it drop, their multitasking skills bordering on impressive. Because Seunghyun is also doing a damn fine job of taking him apart with his mouth, tongue gliding against his in deliberately languid strokes. He melts into it, not even caring that his arms are trapped in his sleeves, and arches against Seunghyun in search of more contact. Jiyong is less nervous than he was, the wings in his stomach anticipatory instead of anxious. Although the temptation to stay there caught in his shirt and just let Seunghyun kiss him forever is difficult to resist.

 

Eventually Jiyong does struggle out of his button-up and he closes his eyes when Seunghyun begins to explore, one of his hands sifting through Jiyong’s hair, making him sway slightly in place. Then it travels down over his neck and his collarbone--calloused fingers grazing his nipple and moving lower still to clutch at his waist. He tenses, arms dangling at his sides as Seunghyun pops the button on his jeans and lowers the zipper. A pair of hands push past the waistband of his boxer-briefs to slide them down his thighs and his breath catches, everything pooling at his feet.

 

He inhales deeply, blood rushing in his ears. Cool air tickles his skin, leaving behind a field of goosebumps, and he can hear Seunghyun shift closer; can feel the swell of his body heat when soft lips kiss the curve of his shoulder. Jiyong’s mouth goes slack, fingers clenching and unclenching as those lips kiss him again, this time just below his jaw. He groans quietly when the head of his cock rubs against a denim clad thigh.

 

“I know you don’t think you’re anything special, but I have to disagree,” Seunghyun murmurs, pressing another kiss to his cheek.

 

Jiyong flushes at that despite wanting to roll his eyes, entire body tingling from the kisses and the compliment. “You’re entitled to your own opinion,” he says with a smile.

 

Seunghyun’s laugh is faint, the puff of his breath hitting the side of Jiyong’s face.

 

“What am I gonna do with you?”

 

Eyelids fluttering open, he reaches out to hook a finger in one of Seunghyun’s belt loops, other hand boldly coming up to palm him through his jeans. The small moan that leaves Seunghyun’s mouth is so sexy that he does it again, adding more pressure this time, and Seunghyun leans into him, nuzzling against his cheek with one of those obscene sighs.

 

“I can think of a few things,” Jiyong whispers, his cock getting harder just from the reality of Seunghyun rutting into his hand.

 

He gives Seunghyun a light squeeze before letting go, making quick work of the button and the zipper, and peels the tight denim away from his hips. Seunghyun is plenty eager to finish the task, shoving the rest of his clothes off and kicking them away. Jiyong’s gaze falls to the pale expanse of Seunghyun’s thighs, nearly choking out a snort, because the fucker is still unbearably gorgeous even with a hilarious tanline. He doesn’t really get a moment to appreciate the sight, though, enthusiastically being dragged to the bed instead.

 

“Don’t laugh,” Seunghyun tells him, easing him down on the sheets while trying not to give away his own amusement.

 

“I didn’t!” Jiyong protests.

 

“No, but you were going to.”

 

“Only because you’re un--” his explanation gets interrupted by Seunghyun’s fingers wrapping around the base of his cock, thumb pressing into the sensitive vein running underneath, and Jiyong throws his head back against the pillows with a silent moan. “ _Oh_ ,” he breathes.

 

“I’m what?” Seunghyun asks, sounding incredibly pleased with himself as his mouth ghosts over Jiyong’s.

 

However, he’s having some difficulty remembering what he was even about to say, hips canting in an effort to make that hand _move_. Because it’s been a while since anyone else’s hand but his own was anywhere near his junk and when Seunghyun grips him a bit tighter, he knows this is going to be over very, very soon.

 

“Amazing. You’re amazing,” Jiyong gasps, not shamed in the least when he resorts to begging. ” _Pleasekeepgoing_.”

 

Seunghyun laughs, kissing him deeply and doing just that. Jiyong spreads his legs wider, pushing up into the even strokes of Seunghyun’s fist and curling his fingers into his hair. A low moan vibrates in his chest the moment the kiss turns dirty and Seunghyun grinds down against his hip. _Fuck, that’s so fucking hot_. Jiyong whines because the mounting pressure in his gut is driving him insane and they need to stop or else he’s going to blow his load right here and right now. Still, he bucks his hips, the feeling too good. Too... _oh, god_ he gasps again, pulling away to smash his face into the crook of Seunghyun’s neck. Jiyong has lost the ability to adjective.

 

“S-Seunghyun,” he sighs. “If you don’t want...want me to come yet, I--”

 

 _Too late_. Jiyong arches off the bed, Seunghyun’s wrist flicking on every upstroke and squeezing him _just right, fuck me_. There was really no other way this was going to end. Rolling his hips faster, he listens to the sound of Seunghyun panting against his shoulder and just lets go. Then his body goes rigid and his eyes slam shut and Jiyong comes all over his stomach with a hitched sob.

 

“ _Jesus_ ,” he groans, hips twitching as Seunghyun strokes him through the last pulses of his orgasm, mouthing at his neck until he calms.

 

“Making you come was kind of the point,” Seunghyun murmurs against his skin. Jiyong can feel him smiling again.

 

He emits a weak laugh. “Yeah, I figured that out, thanks.”

 

Seunghyun’s smile grows as he drags it along Jiyong’s neck, leaving a trail of kisses on his skin, working his way lower to scrape his teeth over Jiyong’s chest, tongue licking circles around his nipple. His brain explodes, because he’s still buzzing. A fact Seunghyun seems to be taking full advantage of. But the real mindfuck is when Seunghyun’s tongue keeps going, cleaning off his stomach with lazy swipes. _Wow, that’s...wow_. The heat of arousal is quick to sweep through him, riding the coattails of his first orgasm, promising another. Jiyong massages his fingers into Seunghyun’s scalp and stares at the ceiling, breath coming in shorter bursts the longer that tongue insists on turning him into an overstimulated mess.

 

“I can’t believe you’re doing this right now,” he half-whispers to himself, not really intending to say it out loud.

 

 _Oops_.

 

Seunghyun pauses and looks up, legitimate surprise coloring his expression at hearing that. “You mean no one’s ever…”

 

“Cleaned up after I came all over myself?” Jiyong shakes his head, trying not to laugh. _This is so weird_.

 

“And I’m the first.”

 

 _Yes, you are the first human being to ever lick jizz from my stomach moments after giving me a handjob. Boldly going where no man has gone before_. He knows he’s blushing again, though it’s kind of dumb when they’re already naked and Seunghyun has intimate knowledge of what flavor his spunk is. Smoothing a hand over Seunghyun’s hair, Jiyong traces the shape of his eyebrow with the other.

 

“Um, I guess you could say most of the guys I’ve been with were more interested in getting themselves off,” he admits sort of reluctantly.

 

Jiyong doesn’t have much skill in the art of boys. Or casual sex. Or anything beyond light conversation with people that aren’t his friends.

 

“Jiyong…” Seunghyun exhales his name like he’s sad about it or something, crawling back up the bed to kiss his forehead, his nose, his lips.

 

“Seunghyun, you don’t--” Jiyong grins, indulging himself for ten seconds by focusing on Seunghyun’s mouth, finally finding out what he tastes like on someone else’s tongue. “You don’t have to overcompensate.”

 

“No, I don’t. But I’d like you to know how it feels to have sex with someone who gives a shit.”

 

Translation: “Because _I_ give a shit.” He blushes even harder.

 

“Well, it’s not like I’m gonna stop you.”

 

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Seunghyun smacks another kiss against Jiyong’s lips and then rolls away to fumble around in the side table drawer.

 

Having located what Jiyong rightly assumes are lube and a condom, Seunghyun resettles himself between Jiyong’s legs, manually bending his knees and moving them apart. There’s a flutter in his stomach as he watches Seunghyun coat his fingers until they’re slick, though the warm look in his eyes might also have something to do with that. Jiyong breathes in and Seunghyun bends at the waist to brush his lips over his hipbone. It’s another alarmingly sweet gesture, his throat closing up in response. Those seem to be growing in number.

 

“You okay?” Seunghyun murmurs, peering up at him through his eyelashes.

 

Now this, this is something he’s absolutely ready for. Jiyong nods, his breath leaving him all at once when he feels the first finger enter him slowly. He grips the sheets, gaze locked on Seunghyun’s and incapable of turning away. When he’s in past the second knuckle, all Jiyong can think about is how much he needs it to be Seunghyun inside of him instead.

 

“More,” he begs, mouth parting on a gasp as another finger pushes in.

 

He doesn’t feel the burn yet, but he wants to. Oh, how he wants to. Jiyong bears down on Seunghyun’s hand, begging again, “More, please, more more.”

 

To which Seunghyun happily complies. He releases a satisfied moan, hips working in time with the way Seunghyun’s fingers twist and spread. Jiyong notices how this is affecting him, too--bottom lip nestled firmly in his teeth and the warmth in his eyes going so, so dark. Jiyong’s cock has decided to rejoin the party as well, swelling further with the help of a few strokes from his right hand. He could probably come again just like this. But that would be unfair and a lot less fun.

 

Rising up off the bed, Jiyong grabs Seunghyun by the neck, their lips colliding. Seunghyun makes this needy little noise in the back of his throat, his free hand scrabbling to hold onto something as it slides down Jiyong’s thigh to grip his waist and yank him in. He’s tucked up against Seunghyun, two of their arms caught between them awkwardly, but Jiyong is so turned on it doesn’t even register. When he breaks the kiss with a slight gasp, he doesn’t go far.

 

“Seunghyun.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Pretty sure I’m good.”

 

“Okay.”

 

To emphasize his point, he clenches around Seunghyun’s fingers and has the distinct pleasure of watching him short-circuit. Needless to say, Jiyong finds himself flat on his back a few seconds later. The feeling of being gently manhandled--Seunghyun arranging Jiyong’s limbs and lifting him to place a pillow beneath his hips--is getting him all kinds of worked up in the worst way. Or the best way. He doesn’t know, because Seunghyun has this habit of always making him feel a million fucking things at the same time. And as Jiyong lays there he has the most startling epiphany. Okay, maybe it’s not startling and maybe he saw it coming from ten-thousand miles away. And maybe the fact that they’re about to bang isn’t really the most appropriate or logical moment to acknowledge this thing that’s been in his head for weeks, but Jiyong can’t really fight it anymore. It’s just there, in his mind, waving around a big sparkly banner that cheerfully proclaims “You’re An Idiot!” in fat, mocking typeface.

 

Simply put, Jiyong is about to fall in love with Seunghyun. Probably already has. But with the way Seunghyun touches him, the way he looks at him, talks to him, kisses him...Jiyong can’t help but wonder if maybe Seunghyun might be a little in love with him too.

 

“Hey,” Seunghyun says, looming above him with his elbows bracketing his head.

 

Jiyong blinks, realizing he was totally spaced out and he laughs, embarrassed. The smile on Seunghyun’s face is wide enough that his dimples just barely indent his cheeks and Jiyong brings his hand up to trace one of them. “Hi.”

 

“Lost you there for a minute.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

Drawing Seunghyun down into him, Jiyong’s mouth meets his in a faint caress. It still such a rush, having permission to do this whenever he wants now. Jiyong demonstrates this freedom by giving Seunghyun a dozen more kisses, which is received very well based on the way Seunghyun’s latex-covered cock slides against his own when he rocks his hips.

 

“Can I…?” Seunghyun whispers.

 

Jiyong nods. “Please.”

 

Without hesitation, Seunghyun reaches down to line himself up, the head of his cock gradually pushing inside. Jiyong concentrates on relaxing to make it easier. Because the three fingers were more than enough, but Seunghyun isn’t small, either, and the stretch of his muscles once Seunghyun’s hipbones bite into his thighs is the _most glorious_. He sucks in a lungful of air, his arms hooked over broad shoulders. It doesn’t take long for him to adjust and soon he’s impatiently wriggling under the bulk of Seunghyun pinning him to the mattress.

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Jiyong gasps with the first snap of Seunghyun’s hips. _God yes, yes, yes_.

 

The second is even better, building into an easy rhythm that has Jiyong making these ridiculous little breathy noises because it feels so fucking good. He turns to nuzzle into Seunghyun, licking at the sharp curve of his jaw, panting against his cheek. His whole frame shifts up the bed on the next thrust and he moans loudly to voice his approval.

 

“Like that,” Jiyong gasps again.

 

Seunghyun listens, lifting up on his hands, and Jiyong barely has a moment to prepare for the onslaught that follows--his ears inundated with the sounds of their hitched moans and the slap of their skin. Jiyong arches into it, hips rolling and head thrown back against the pillows, elated. He’s smiling, because how could he not be smiling? Everything is incredible. And it only gets more incredible when Seunghyun dips low to capture his lips; when he finds Jiyong’s hand and tangles their fingers together, pressing them into the sheets.

 

Their pace falters, tiny moans spilling from Seunghyun’s mouth directly into his, and he’s _so close_ already, pleasure coiling tight in his gut. Jiyong slides his other hand down the muscled curve of Seunghyun’s back, palm gripping his ass and urging him on. Seunghyun sucks in a sharp breath, hips jerking in shallow thrusts as he legitimately _whines_ Jiyong’s name, and if that isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever heard, he doesn’t know what is.

 

Orgasm hits Seunghyun a moment later and he clenches their fingers so hard Jiyong’s surprised their bones don’t shatter. Though the pain is nothing compared to way Seunghyun slams forward a few more times and sighs into his mouth as he comes, rolling them over and pulling Jiyong in close. Seunghyun doesn’t stop moving either--grinding against him to ride out the fading pleasure, kisses long and deep and shiver-inducing. Jiyong snakes his arms around Seunghyun to keep him there, and it ends up being exactly what he needs, his cock caught in the tight press of their bodies. It creates just the right amount of friction to send him tumbling over the edge with a quiet, drawn out moan. Seunghyun swallows it with a smile.

 

There’s a span of time after that where neither of them feel compelled to do much of anything but lay there and breathe. Jiyong buries his face in Seunghyun’s neck while calloused fingers rub circles into the spot just below his shoulder blades. He feels sated and content and like he weighs ten million pounds and it is seriously the best fucking thing.

 

“That was lovely, you’re lovely,” he mumbles, words barely intelligible but Seunghyun laughs anyway.

 

“You’re more lovely.”

 

Jiyong’s lips split in a grin.

 

“Shut. Up.”

 

More laughter, Seunghyun’s fingers scratching their way up Jiyong’s nape to sink into his hair. He hums in bliss and snuggles closer. Jiyong wants to stay there forever even though he’s well aware of the physical impossibilities. He would, though. He totally would; sweaty, gross skin and all.

 

However, the spell is broken and Seunghyun tilts his head to plant a kiss on the bridge of his nose before drawing away. “I’ll be right back.”

 

Alone for the moment, Jiyong stretches his arms above his head, just decompressing. He must space out again in the process, because he jumps when he feels a washcloth drag along the inside of his thigh.

 

“Sorry,” Seunghyun murmurs.

 

“It’s cool,” he replies, grinning again.

 

The washcloth travels higher to clean between his legs, and then up over his spent cock to his stomach and his chest. This is something else no one’s ever done for him and he squirms under the tender caresses. Jiyong wonders if this is common for most people or if Seunghyun is just a mind-numbingly considerate freak of nature. Regardless, it has his pulse skittering and his throat working as he attempts to clear the knot of _feelings_ that seem like they’d really rather just chill there for a while.

 

Finished, Seunghyun quickly pinches one of Jiyong’s nipples before he has the chance to stop it.

 

“Ow! What the hell,” he giggles, more shocked than mad.

 

“You were being too quiet.”

 

Jiyong rolls his eyes and shoves him in the arm.

 

“I can think of less abusive ways to get someone to talk.”

 

“I couldn’t resist,” Seunghyun defends himself as he gets to his feet. “You have cute nipples.”

 

He rolls over to bury his surprised laughter into one of the pillows, listening as Seunghyun ducks from the room again. Except when he comes back this time, he crawls into the bed and affixes himself to Jiyong’s side, which is kind of like dying and going to heaven--the entirely naked length of Seunghyun snug against the entirely naked length of him. But for a self-proclaimed cuddle monster, this is far too tame. Jiyong turns until he’s half on top of Seunghyun, pushing a knee between his thighs and wedging an arm underneath his back so he can curl around him fully. He smiles in victory when Seunghyun’s immediate reaction is to hug him even tighter.

 

It’s funny, in hindsight, how terrified he was of this. Of not having his affections reciprocated or, if they were, what he was going to do about it. Not that he isn’t a little bit afraid of what it’s become. Is becoming? Will become? Jiyong has no idea what to do with love that isn’t platonic. Less so when he can’t even stick around to see what happens. _No. No, don’t think about that_. He grimaces and burrows further into Seunghyun’s chest.

 

“Jiyong?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Do you want to spend the night?”

 

“Like a slumber party?” Jiyong mumbles. “Can we braid each other’s hair and talk about cute boys?”

 

Seunghyun snorts, pinching Jiyong’s ass pretty hard. “I’m being serious.”

 

His body jerks and he yelps again, nailing himself in the shin with Seunghyun’s foot. _Ow, ow, ow_. Jiyong hoists himself up to glare down at his dick of a boyfriend.

 

“Fucking cut it out with the pinching. Does super awesome sex destroy your sense of humor or something?”

 

“Super awesome? I dunno if I’d go that far,” Seunghyun mutters and glances away, like Jiyong isn’t going to see the way his dimples are trying to fight their way to freedom.

 

“You little shit.” He bites his lip, leaning on one arm to tweak Seunghyun’s nose as payback. “That’s not funny, that’s just mean.”

 

Seunghyun winces and steals his hand, most likely to prevent him from performing additional acts of revenge. But it’s okay, because the night is still young, and Jiyong can plot in silence waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Seunghyun doesn’t know who he’s messing with. Or maybe he does, given the kisses that are currently being pressed to the center of his palm. _Cheater_. Temporarily defeated, Jiyong slumps back down, though he senses the exact moment Seunghyun’s grin explodes onto his face because he pushes it directly against Jiyong’s hand. In response, he covers Seunghyun’s mouth and presses his own smile into Seunghyun’s shoulder.

 

Unfortunately their stupid little game gets cut short by the loud gurgling of his stomach.

 

“I thought you weren’t hungry,” Seunghyun says, amusement muffled through Jiyong’s fingers.

 

“Must’ve worked up an appetite after all that really horrible boning.”

 

But when Seunghyun moves to attack him again, he’s ready, letting go of his face to grab onto his wrist. Jiyong chuckles.

 

“Can we order a pizza?” he asks. He’ll offer sexual favors if he has to.

 

“Will you answer my question?” Seunghyun counters.

 

This is the biggest no-brainer, honestly. Yet he still hesitates before speaking, slipping his fingers from Seunghyun’s wrist to hold his hand instead.

 

“Yeah. I wanna stay.”

 

He watches Seunghyun’s chin rise and fall as he nods.

 

“One more question.”

 

There’s a dramatic pause and Jiyong doesn’t even have to see it to know the fucker is lit up like a Christmas tree.

 

“Pepperoni or sausage?”

 

“Pepperoni.” Jiyong utilizes a dramatic pause of his own, doing his best not to totally lose it when he says, “I’ve had enough sausage inside me for one evening.”

 

While Seunghyun cries with laughter and tells him he’s awful, Jiyong hides in his chest and has a mental breakdown because it just dawned on him that he thought the word “ _boyfriend_ ” and didn’t simultaneously cease to exist. _Man, I am so fucked_.

  
  


 

 

 

 

*

 

 

 

 

  
  


Jiyong is aware of two things the moment he achieves consciousness the next morning: the first being that he’s not in his room. And the second being that he has an armful of mostly naked man. Mostly naked, sleep-rumpled, drooling man. Jiyong stares down at Seunghyun, blinking away the haze from his eyes. He can’t rub them because his hands are being held captive against Seunghyun’s chest, which is more than okay. Really. He doesn’t need them. Except that he kind of has to pee. Seunghyun is out cold though, hair a disheveled mess and cheek comically squished against the pillows. _How can you be this consistently adorable?_ Jiyong releases a careful sigh and also wonders how he even slept like this--right arm caught under Seunghyun’s neck and their legs oddly intertwined. The minute he shifts, he knows half of his body is going to erupt into pins and needles, but it’ll be worth feeling like he’s being attacked by a horde of fire ants. Not just because he’s plastered to Seunghyun’s back octopus-style. It’s more that Jiyong can’t remember the last time he woke up happy. Like, actually happy. Not _oka_ y, not _ambivalent_. Fucking _happy_. And he thinks it has less to do with the sex and a lot to do with the way Seunghyun is holding their locked fingers over his heart like it’s been happening for years and that’s exactly where they belong.

 

“Oh boy,” Jiyong whispers into the stillness of the room.

 

Seunghyun makes this cute little groaning noise and curves inward, dragging Jiyong with him. It’s totally great aside from the fact that his arm is slowly coming back to life. He grits his teeth and pushes his forehead into Seunghyun’s shoulder.

 

“Seunghyun?”

 

“Mmmf.”

 

“Seunghyun, please wake up.”

 

Another round of endearing grumbly sounds are his answer. Jiyong laughs, kind of desperate at this point, because every time he tries to pull away Seunghyun grips him tighter. Clearly Jiyong is not the merciless one anymore.

 

“Seunghyun,” he tries again, louder than the last.

 

The pins and needles have traveled up past his shoulder and are spreading down his side and if he doesn’t move _right this second_ , he’s going to scream. Seunghyun inhales deeply, stretching as he comes to. Jiyong would be more thrilled if the movement of his body wasn’t putting pressure on his dead arm and he whines.

 

“What’s wrong?” Seunghyun asks, voice thick, and turns to look up at him.

 

Jiyong wishes he could enjoy sleepy Seunghyun, but as it is he can really only focus on how much he hates his circulatory system right now.

 

“My arm and my leg fell asleep.”

 

It takes a second for this information to register and when it does, Seunghyun’s eyes widen and he sits up, setting him free. Jiyong quickly rolls over and curls up on his other side, flexing his fingers and shaking his leg out. He’s laughing and groaning, but mostly groaning, especially when Seunghyun starts kneading his thigh to help.

 

“Fuck my life,” Jiyong moans, the feeling getting worse before it gets better. “Press harder.”

 

Seunghyun does and Jiyong gasps, his fingers massaging lower to his calf. There’s such an intense look of concern on his face that Jiyong resorts to giggling because this whole situation is ludicrous. Only he could find a way to make cuddling dangerous.

 

“Lay down on your back,” Seunghyun instructs.

 

He complies, still bending his arm back and forth and trying to breathe through the weird sensations that have besieged the right side of his body. The pins and needles have almost stopped at least, but he’s not quite there yet. Seunghyun’s hands are doing their best to change that, working their way up Jiyong’s leg to his hip and his waist and then along his arm to massage each of his fingers. If he wasn’t so thankful not to be writhing in discomfort, he’d probably have a gigantic boner by now--the thorough attention of Seunghyun’s touch easily molding him into a lump of Jiyong-shaped Play-Doh. He groans in relief this time, melting against the bed.

 

Seunghyun finally smiles. “Better?”

 

“Yeah. Thanks.” Jiyong returns the smile, but it slips a little. “Sorry for uh, making you get up. I wasn’t going to but--”

 

“Jiyong, you don’t have to apologize,” Seunghyun cuts him off, laying down next to him and huffing out a laugh.

 

“Still.”

 

“It’s already after eleven, anyway.”

 

“Shit, seriously?” He covers his face with his hands and groans yet again.

 

“Yeah, why?”

 

When he doesn’t respond, Seunghyun lightly snaps the elastic waistband of his underwear against his hip. It doesn’t hurt, though Jiyong still squirms, rolling until he runs into the solid wall of Seunghyun’s chest. A warm arm wraps around him and his grin is irrepressible, but he tries to keep it from his voice when he speaks.

 

“My shift starts at one. I don’t wanna go,” Jiyong mutters quietly, affecting a sullen tone. Never let it be said that he can’t act his age.

 

Seunghyun doesn’t buy it for a second, sighing as he begins to pull away and move off the bed, tugging on Jiyong’s arm. “Come on, up.”

 

Except he’s doing a really great impersonation of a corpse and Seunghyun only manages to lug him a few inches. Jiyong laugh-snorts when Seunghyun puts his weight into it and literally drags him like a bag of bones across the mattress, his face catching on the sheets on his way.

 

“Where are you taking me, cruel human?”

 

“Bathroom. Now. Let’s go,” Seunghyun commands, words firm and edged with humor.

 

It’s just...his voice is still thick and deep and rumbly from waking up. Deeper and more rumbly than usual, and _oh_ , Jiyong likes that. So much so that he freezes, removes his hand from Seunghyun’s grip, and promptly hops from the bed. He does nothing to hide the beginnings of his hard-on, sparing Seunghyun a glance and blushing when he sees him smirk knowingly. _Big fat jerk_. Seunghyun thwacks him on the ass to get him moving and it sends this sharp jolt of arousal straight through his gut. As Jiyong wanders into the bathroom, he decides to spend some time later re-evaluating his feelings on getting spanked.

 

They showered. Well, if a really intense makeout session under hot water counts as showering. Jiyong honestly tried to be good, but his resolve crumbled the minute Seunghyun started scrubbing him down, hands _everywhere_. He would’ve had to have been actually dead not to let it turn him on--pushing Seunghyun into the wall and rubbing his soapy body against him like a fucking cat in heat. Even worse was having the echo of Seunghyun’s throaty laughter all around him. Vibrating in his chest, spilling into his mouth. Seunghyun jacked both of them off with one hand, their cocks pressed together and Jiyong moaning helplessly against his lips.

 

There are obviously less awesome ways to start the day, but it only added to the pile of reasons why going to work was the lowest possible item on his to-do list.

 

Breakfast was no better. Seunghyun sat on his kitchen counter in his underwear, swinging his legs out to poke his toes into Jiyong’s bare stomach while they talked and ate leftover slices of cold pizza. Though the talking was more flirting than actual conversation. Or foreplay, judging by the hunger in Seunghyun’s eyes that had nothing to do with pepperoni.

 

Jiyong does his best not to think about it anymore as he shrugs his work shirt on and slips the buttons through the buttonholes one by one. There’s no point in getting all mopey because he can’t stay. He just can’t get it out of his head that this--him and Seunghyun--has a deadline. With the summer halfway over already, that doesn’t leave much. And since they’ve only really been _together_ for a few days, Jiyong can’t tell how Seunghyun feels about all of this. He’s too chicken-shit to ask yet. Because what if this isn’t anything more than a Summer Fling to him and Jiyong is just a way to pass the time? What if Jiyong is getting his hopes up for nothing? What if--

 

 _Fucking stop it_.

 

He frowns, doing the top button and bending down to reach for his tie only to discover it isn’t there.

 

“I promised you, remember?” Seunghyun asks, walking across the room shirtless and barefoot with his jeans hanging low on his hips like the unfair human being that he is. He’s also got a skinny strip of black fabric in his hand and that’s when it clicks.

 

Jiyong smiles. It doesn’t stretch as wide as he wants it to.

 

“Yeah, I remember.”

 

Seunghyun’s eyebrows pucker slightly, though he remains silent, lifting the collar of Jiyong’s shirt to slide the tie around his neck. He doesn’t _plan_ to stare at him the entire time. But it happens anyway, and Jiyong hates himself for ever entertaining the idea, regardless of how hypothetical, that Seunghyun would think of him as a temporary diversion. Because the way he’s being looked at is not the way you look at someone when they mean nothing to you.

 

“You seem upset.”

 

“I’m…” Jiyong almost says “fine”, but he knows Seunghyun will know it’s a lie. He clears his throat and stares down at the fingers still attached to his tie instead. “It’s just my brain being stupid. I’m upset with my brain.”

 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“No,” he answers too quickly.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes. No. I mean--” Jiyong sucks in a breath, shoving a hand through his damp hair.

 

When he lifts his head, he meets a pair of genuinely distressed brown eyes and lets the breath out in a rush. _You are so annoying_. Jiyong’s pretty sure not embarrassing himself isn’t ever going to be in the cards. So he gives up. Again.

 

“Seunghyun are we, um,” he laughs, suddenly way too nervous. “Jesus, I don’t even know why I’m asking this, it’s only been two days. There’s gotta be some kind of insane rule of dating etiquette that I’m breaking by even thinking it, I just--”

 

The word vomit is effectively silenced by Seunghyun yanking Jiyong into him via the iron grip on his tie, mouth insistent but soft against his own. Jiyong sighs, hands latching onto Seunghyun’s neck automatically. All thoughts, good and bad and fucking dumb, float away until his mind is wonderfully empty--his awareness narrowing to the lips moving over his lips like they’re the only lips in the universe worth kissing.

 

“So.” Seunghyun pulls back, forehead resting against Jiyong’s. “You had a question.”

 

His eyes are still closed and he doesn’t even hesitate for one beat because he doesn’t have the mental capacity to sabotage himself anymore. “Areyoumyboyfriendnow?”

 

 _What the fuck, am I in kindergarten or something?_ Jiyong wants to smash his face against a cement wall. Repeatedly. But the sound of amusement that comes pouring out of Seunghyun is far from scornful.

 

“I’m sorry, that was...I don’t know what that was, please ignore me forever,” Jiyong mutters, withdrawing.

 

Seunghyun doesn’t let him escape more than an inch or two, the hand that isn’t fisted around his tie stealing under his shirt to press against his back.

 

“I’d be a pretty crappy boyfriend if I did.”

 

Jiyong goes very still, gaze crawling up from Seunghyun’s chest to find him looking inordinately pleased, and he nibbles on his lip to control the force of his own grin. They have a moment of shared staring, Jiyong totally okay with being overwhelmed by the floaty feeling pushing at his ribs from the inside out. At some point Seunghyun reels him in again and he laughs into the kiss.

 

“You know, you’re gonna give me one hell of a complex with all the tie grabbing.” Jiyong curls his hand around Seunghyun’s, making him let go, but only so he can link their fingers instead. “Every time I put one on I’m gonna pop a boner and it’s all your fault.”

 

“I fail to see the problem with this scenario.” Seunghyun’s voice is a low purr in his ear, the hand at Jiyong’s back sliding down to mold to his ass and squeeze.

 

He gasps--just a quiet intake of breath--clenching the fingers in his and pushing his hips forward. But then Seunghyun stops and steps away and Jiyong wants to punch him in the mouth.

 

“I don’t like you anymore.”

 

“Liar,” Seunghyun fires back, moving further and further away, but looking like every step in reverse physically pains him. Especially when his eyes dart low to briefly stare at the tent he’d started pitching in Jiyong’s underwear. “I don’t want you to be late for work.”

 

“You’re still a terrible person,” he grumbles, frowning as he snatches his jeans from the floor and puts them on.

 

Seunghyun chuckles as he walks out of the room and Jiyong winces, trying to force his dick down so he can pull the zipper up. It’s not that bad, but he could really do without feeling sexually frustrated for the rest of the day. He sighs, tugs on his socks, and follows his abuser into the living room.

 

“Will I see you later?” Seunghyun asks, hovering by the front door like he doesn’t know what else to do.

 

Jiyong replies while shoving his feet into his sneakers. “I’d say yes, but my mom’s probably already thinking about filing a missing person’s report because I never came home last night.”

 

Seunghyun’s snort is loud in the quiet apartment.

 

“You didn’t tell her?”

 

“No, why should I?” He shrugs.

 

Crossing his arms, Seunghyun shakes his head, wearing an affectionate but slightly admonishing smile on his face. It’s one of those looks that should be condescending, because he knows Seunghyun is probably reminding himself that Jiyong is _just a kid_. Except it isn’t. Because Jiyong also knows that Seunghyun is so well-intentioned it’s almost obnoxious.

 

“One of these days you’ll be a parent and shit like that will drive you up the fucking wall. Because it doesn’t matter how old you are, they’re always worried. They’ll be worried when you’re forty.”

 

 _Case in point_. Jiyong laughs. “Do you tell your parents everything?”

 

“No. But I talk to my mom pretty often,” Seunghyun admits.

 

“Define often.”

 

He watches Seunghyun’s cheeks take on a hint of color and it’s a sight that is far more endearing than it has any right to be.

 

“Every couple days.”

 

“No wonder my mom thinks you’re a sweet kid,” Jiyong drawls, leaning against the wall next to him, amused beyond belief.

 

Seunghyun’s face lights up. “She said that?”

 

“Yeah. But now that you’re porking her son, that might’ve changed,” he says, breaking down into laughter again only because Seunghyun is giggling and that shit is contagious. And life-ruining. And easily the greatest sound to have ever existed. Jiyong coughs out a final chuckle, wedging his hands into his pockets and feeling like an idiot for getting emotionally attached to a fucking _sound_. He’s in so much trouble it’s actually sort of hilarious.

 

“Regardless,” he continues, clearing his throat, “I predict an awkward family dinner in our immediate future.”

 

 _Our future_. Wow. Jiyong cringes, slapping a hand over his eyes. He hasn’t even told his mom about them and he’s already signing Seunghyun up for Kwon Family Fun Time. _Fuck_.

 

“I-- I mean, if you’re okay with that. You don’t have to be. You don’t have to do anything. It’s just, once my mom knows, it’s pretty much a given, but I don’t wanna freak you out because...um...”

 

Jiyong trails off, losing his train of thought when his hand gets pulled away and a thumb slides against the peaks of his knuckles.

 

“I’m okay with it.”

 

“Really?”

 

“In theory. When it happens I might be a little less certain,” Seunghyun murmurs, a wry lilt to his words.

 

“That’s totally valid.”

 

Releasing a relieved breath, Jiyong curls his fingers around Seunghyun’s and smiles. He has the urge to make sure he’s not dreaming again, because all of this is going surprisingly well and he wants to know when the other shoe is going to drop. Maybe it never will. Maybe he should give Seunghyun a little more credit. Maybe he needs to stop expecting the worst and just allow a good thing be exactly that-- _good_. Jiyong tugs on Seunghyun’s hand, reluctant to let go even though he has to.

 

“I should head out,” he says softly.

 

“I’ll see you at the house tomorrow?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Seunghyun seems just as reluctant, though, making no effort to facilitate Jiyong’s leaving despite how demanding he was earlier. If anything, he makes it even harder, looking at Jiyong in a way that turns his legs into wet noodles. He kind of wants to shout at him. But since he is no more than a weak, noodly blob of feelings, Jiyong hugs Seunghyun instead. Which is really nice. Super nice. _The nicest_. Seunghyun noses into Jiyong’s hair and the weight of his arms around Jiyong’s shoulders is so pleasant he’ll probably be late anyway.

 

 

 

 

  
  


*

 

 

 

 

  
  


Walking home from the theater that night is a quiet affair. It’s always quiet, since everything closes by ten and any later than that it’s like wandering through an strangely pristine ghost town. His shift had been long and slow, a good chunk of it taken up by texting Seunghyun because even though they’d just spent about eighteen hours together, they still couldn’t stop talking. Jiyong grins to himself as he walks along the driveway of his parents’ house, already looking forward to tomorrow. But when he sees that the lights in the living room are still on, his grin vanishes, and he hopes the utter dread building in his stomach is unwarranted. His mom can’t be _that_ mad. Right? He’s an adult for fuck’s sake.

 

“ _Finally_ ,” Soo Jin announces, like she’s been standing there in the foyer since yesterday waiting for her long lost son to return.

 

Jiyong shuts the front door behind him and offers her a timid smile. “Sorry.”

 

“You know, there’s this marvelous invention called a cellular phone that I believe you have in your pocket and apparently never use.”

 

She doesn’t look pissed, she looks tired, and he can hear exactly how much in the way her voice is soft, even though she’d probably really enjoy yelling at him right now. Not that she ever does. Jiyong can just tell by how she holds herself when she’s angry with him--like watching a pot of water that doesn’t want to let itself boil.

 

Taking his shoes off, Jiyong approaches her with caution, though he’s more troubled by the dark circles under her eyes. She hasn’t been sleeping well.

 

“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal,” he answers honestly.

 

Soo Jin frowns. “A text would’ve been nice.”

 

“You were really that worried?”

 

“Jiyong, I will always worry about you. It’s how I’m wired as a mother, I’m not even aware I’m doing it half the time,” she says, mild exasperation coloring her tone.

 

Jiyong lets his head drop, fingers playing with the edge of his tie. _Seunghyun’s_ tie. He grimaces. The asshole was right, of course.

 

“I’m sorry I freaked you out,” he mutters.

 

Lifting his chin, Soo Jin cups his cheek and studies his face for a moment before giving him a strained smile.

 

“Just...check in with us, okay? I like knowing you’re still alive.”

 

Jiyong expels a slight laugh and nods, feeling properly chastised by the heavy concern in her eyes alone. He leans into her hand. “You should go to bed.”

 

Soo Jin’s smile widens, a bit of her teasing nature floating to the surface as she pinches his cheek. _What the fuck is with all the pinching?_ Jiyong laughs in earnest this time and squirms away.

 

“Not until I get my goodnight hug,” she tells him, stepping closer to gather him up in her arms and squeeze the living daylights out of him.

 

“Ugh, _mom_ ,” Jiyong whines, wriggling as much as he can in her vise grip.

 

“So easy to squish,” she chuckles.

 

“You’re such a dork.”

 

But he stops protesting, his arms circling her waist to hug her back. Soo Jin rocks him gently from side to side and Jiyong presses his face into her shoulder, his eyes falling shut almost instantly. It’s so relaxing there’s a pretty good chance he’ll nod off right here. Well, he would if he could stop thinking about Seunghyun, which should be weird when he’s hugging his mother. Except the way her thumb is stroking the highest notch in his spine is the exact same way Seunghyun did earlier this afternoon. Jiyong doesn’t allow himself a moment to contemplate any further similarities.

 

Before Soo Jin withdraws, she gives him one last bone-creaking squeeze, then steps back to bop him on the nose with the tip of her finger. “Takes one to know one,” she retorts belatedly and ruffles his hair for good measure.

 

Jiyong shakes his head, another grin pulling at his lips no matter how hard he tries to hide it. They both leave for their rooms after that, hitting the light switches as they go, and he feels strangely and suddenly tense. Not because of his mom. Okay, sort of because of his mom, but mostly because of Seunghyun. Shedding his work clothes and pulling on a fresh pair of boxers, he drapes the black tie he was gifted over the back of his desk chair and stares at it in the semi-darkness. Jiyong shouldn’t be making such a huge deal out of this. But he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since he left Seunghyun’s apartment. More accurately, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since Seunghyun confirmed that they were _together_ together. Jiyong huffs, half in amazement and half in not-so-secret pleasure.

 

It isn’t that he’s not still happy. He is. It’s just that he’s afraid of everything that happens next. The Talk with his mom and the fact that she’ll want Seunghyun to come over as _his boyfriend_ and not their landscaper. The knowledge that spending more time with Seunghyun also means, with absolute certainty, that Jiyong is going to fall that much harder. The reality that his summer will soon begin to narrow to a close and that he’ll have to talk to Seunghyun about that as well.

 

What bothers him the most, though, is not knowing what Seunghyun’s expectations are and whether or not they coincide with his own. Because Jiyong knows what he’d like to happen, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that it will. Which is why he never manages to keep a relationship going for longer than a month. They just want to fuck around and Jiyong always wants more, so they ditch him and move on. Although he has a pretty solid feeling that this is nowhere near being in the same category. No, this is something else entirely. It’s why he’s afraid.

 

Crawling into bed, he drags his comforter over his head and curls up on his side. It’s so dumb and so cliche and so high school, but he misses having Seunghyun nestled against him, even after just one night. He wonders if Seunghyun feels the same--lying in his bed that seems too big and too empty now that Jiyong isn’t there to help fill it up. Or maybe Jiyong is just absurd and Seunghyun is feeling totally okay in his huge bed by himself with his plant children slumbering peacefully in the next room. He nearly smothers himself with one of his pillows when his phone vibrates next to his head.

 

It’s a text from Seunghyun.

 

_You’ve already ruined me for_   
_sleeping, how dare you._

 

Jiyong can’t stop himself from erupting with dizzy amusement, not giving a shit if he wakes his parents in the process. He is the world’s biggest idiot.

 

_Sorry, not sorry._

 

_So cruel :(_

 

_Payback’s a bitch :)_

 

_And what am I being  
_ _punished for exactly?_

 

_For being a tease._

 

_You tease me merely by  
_ _existing, how is this fair?_

 

_Your face isn’t fair._

 

_Neither is yours._

 

_Are we really gonna sit here  
_ _giving each other weird  
_ _compliments all night?_

 

_I bet I can out-compliment  
_ _you._

 

_This is a dangerous game,  
_ _Choi._

 

_Oooh, last name._

 

_Plus I’m not the one who has  
_ _to be up bright and early._

 

_Gardening and sleep  
_ _deprivation do not a happy  
_ _couple make._

 

_I think Yoda needs to go to  
_ _bed._

 

_Think you are right, Yoda  
_ _does._

 

_Goodnight Seunghyun._

_I’ll see you when I wake up._

 

_Dreams that are sweet,  
_ _Seunghyun wishes you  
_ _have._

 

_Likewise, nerd._

 

Shoving his phone under his pillow, Jiyong whines and laughs again and claws at his face because it hurts from smiling too much. If only he could somehow get his heart to stop beating so fucking fast, maybe he’d be able to catch some z’s, too.

 


	4. Part 4

Between the scramble of the landscape crew to complete all their work on the yard (including his mother’s frantic, last minute alterations) and Jiyong’s boring shifts at the theater, he doesn’t actually get to see Seunghyun very much the next two days. Which is cool. Jiyong totally has no problem sitting at the box office in a torture device masquerading as a chair for nine hours while Zach regales him with a detailed rundown of exactly how the Harry Potter series _should_ have ended. It’s not like he has anywhere else to be. Or like his time would be better spent making out with Seunghyun on his couch. _No_ , not at all. Jiyong rubs his eyes and then glares at the clock on the computer screen in front of him. _Only three more hours of this shit, hooray_. And Zach is _still_ fucking talking. Jiyong can hear him because he’s standing a couple feet away, but he doesn’t register actual information, just a constant, rambling stream of sound. For whatever reason, his utter lack of attention isn’t a problem this time. Though that might have more to do with Zach being stoned than anything else.

 

Eight o’clock marks the final rush--a small handful of people trickling in to catch the last few shows--and then it’s an endurance race to the finish line. AKA counting down the cash register and staring off into space until Ed tells them they can go home. Jiyong’s got a book with him, but he’s not in the mood, and in the end he gives up and texts Seunghyun. He’d been resisting, even though it was a battle he was absolutely destined to lose.

 

_Please save me. I think_   
_my brain is leaking out_   
_of my ears._

 

Except he learns a minute later that Seunghyun is still at Hottie Landscaper HQ buried under paperwork (something Jiyong didn’t realize was part of his job description until this very moment), and he probably won’t get to see him until tomorrow. Pocketing his phone, Jiyong deflates--eyelids drooping and cheek in hand. At least he has tomorrow off. And since it’s the crew’s last day, maybe that also equals bonus time he gets to spend with Seunghyun.

 

A smile creeps across Jiyong’s face when he mentally adds _my boyfriend_ as an afterthought and then lets his eyes drift all the way shut--imagination flitting from Seunghyun’s kisses to his fingers to the affectionate murmur of his voice as he waits out the rest of his shift.

  
  
  


 

 

*

  
  
  


 

 

“I can’t _believe_ you just did that,” Jiyong sputters, wiping sheets of water from his face.

 

Thanks to Seunghyun, who’d gotten a little too excited with the garden hose, his everything is now sopping fucking wet. Jiyong laughs and narrows his eyes. He’s not even angry, he just wants retribution. Though with the number of people around (his mother, too), it’s probably not the best time to tackle Seunghyun to the ground and make him beg for mercy.

 

“You’d better,” Seunghyun taunts, this cute little smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “What are you gonna do about it?”

 

“Nothing,” Jiyong answers, advancing on him slowly and coming to stand a few scant inches away. It’s simultaneously too much and not enough. “My mom’s watching us from the kitchen.”

 

“I noticed.”

 

“Oh, you _noticed_.” He laughs again and unsticks his shirt from his body to squeeze some of the water out, letting it trickle onto Seunghyun’s boots. “Jerk.”

 

Said “jerk” has the nerve to smile at him sweetly, reaching out to slick his drenched hair away from his forehead. It’s a brief gesture. Too brief, Jiyong thinks, and he wishes that they weren’t currently standing in the middle of his backyard where everyone can see them.

 

“You can have your revenge later,” Seunghyun informs him.

 

Jiyong’s eyebrow quirks. “What’s later?”

 

“I’m taking you out.”

 

 _Are you, now?_ He grins and crosses his arms over his chest.

 

“What if I already have plans?”

 

Seunghyun shrugs, obviously trying to play it cool, except that stupid glimmer in his eyes always gives him away. “I figured I was worth dropping them for.”

 

“So full of yourself,” Jiyong murmurs quietly, swaying closer.

 

“You don’t seem to mind all that much,” Seunghyun replies, voice equally low.

 

A warm breeze picks up, ruffling Seunghyun’s hair and making Jiyong shiver involuntarily due mostly to his dampened state. When it passes, he can feel the faint heat from Seunghyun’s body leeching into him and _fuck_ he can’t take the way Seunghyun is looking at him. Like he wants to devour him. Jiyong lets out a shaky breath.

 

“I really wish you’d quit staring at me like that.”

 

“Why?” Seunghyun asks, torturing him some more by intentionally shifting his gaze to stare at his mouth.

 

“Because I can’t kiss you,” Jiyong says, distracted, and then closes his eyes to get some of his concentration back. “But I can do this,” he adds, peering up at Seunghyun to watch his face while he slides his hand over Seunghyun’s fingers and wrenches the hose from his grasp.

 

Jiyong acts quickly and skips a few steps in the opposite direction, lifting the hose and covering half of the opening with his thumb so he can more accurately obliterate his target. _Fuck yeah!_ Seunghyun yells and cackles brightly as Jiyong douses him with cold water, arms held up to shield himself, but it’s no use. The enemy has been slain.

 

“You really had me there for a minute,” Seunghyun admits, still chuckling while he stands there dripping.

 

With a pleased smile, Jiyong lets go of the hose, taking a moment to appreciate the vision that is a water-logged Seunghyun--eyes eagerly roaming over his chest and his stomach, over the planes of lean muscle that Jiyong knows well, but would absolutely love getting to know better. He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and wonders if maybe he’s still the loser in this situation.

 

“I’m actually starting to regret my decision.”

 

Seunghyun just smirks again, dragging the wet material of his shirt up and over his head to wring it out, exposing too many inches of perfectly tanned skin.

 

“Yeahhh, definitely didn’t think this one through,” Jiyong sighs, chewing at his lip until it stings.

 

Knowing exactly how that skin feels beneath his mouth and his fingers and not being able to _touch_...he groans, burying his face in his hands. “I’m gonna go take a shower. A long, hot, lonely shower, and not think about you while I jerk off.”

 

“ _Ouch_.” Seunghyun holds a palm to his chest as if mortally wounded.

 

“It’s a shame you can’t come with.”

 

Jiyong snort-laughs when Seunghyun glares at him, but then the expression of death fades and turns into one of interest.

 

“Actually...”

 

“Oh my god, are you crazy?” Jiyong scoffs and moves closer to punch him in the arm. “My mom would murder both of us.”

 

Seunghyun nudges him back half-heartedly. “Who says she has to know?”

 

“Believe me, she’d know. It’s like some fucked up mom super power,” he argues. “And do you really want that going on your permanent record before she has you over for dinner?”

 

“No.”

 

“Exactly. So--”

 

But he gets interrupted by one of Seunghyun’s landscaping crew buddies. _Every fucking time_.

 

“Choi! When you’re done flirting, we need you over here.”

 

An intense blush creeps onto Jiyong’s face and he watches Seunghyun rub at the back of his neck--this thin, embarrassed laugh leaking out of his mouth. Being adorable should officially be outlawed when Jiyong can’t do anything about it.

 

Seunghyun drapes his wet shirt over his shoulder and sighs. “I’ll call you when I get home?”

 

“Yeah.” Jiyong nods, giving him a smile that’s less teasing and more sincere.

 

He’s treated to a glorious view of Seunghyun’s wet khaki shorts clinging to his ass for about five seconds before Seunghyun whirls around again and walks back, holding up his index finger.

 

“Just… one kiss. Please. No one’s paying attention,” Seunghyun implores softly.

 

Jiyong decides that he must have saved another planet in a past life to deserve this, like winning some kind of cosmic lottery where everything is awesome and the guy he’s head over heels for is just as smitten. He huffs, amused, and carefully glances around the yard to find zero pairs of curious eyes watching them. Even a quick look towards the house reveals that his mom has temporarily vacated the kitchen and really, opportunities like this don’t exactly get any better. So he nods, expecting something chaste and fleeting and not nearly as satisfying as he needs it to be. But what he gets is so much more.

 

Seunghyun cups his face with one hand, the other going to his waist and pulling him in until they’re flush, making Jiyong gasp. It’s something Seunghyun makes use of once their lips are gently moving together, his tongue dipping ever so slightly into Jiyong’s mouth as he increases the pressure. Jiyong is so lost in the feeling of being kissed that he forgets he even has hands. Or arms or legs or anything that isn’t his mouth, because that’s clearly all he needs. Except there’s a tingling warmth crawling up his body as Seunghyun’s fingers deftly slip beneath the hem of his shirt to touch the damp skin just above his jeans. He moans. Actually it’s more of a whimper, because Seunghyun is withdrawing and Jiyong doesn’t want that _no, no, no_.

 

He receives a faint chuckle for his efforts, a nose bump, and another brush of lips that lingers just long enough to leave him wanting. When Jiyong opens his eyes, Seunghyun’s mouth is split wide across his face--their foreheads pressed together and his hands clinging to Seunghyun’s hips.

 

“Technically, that was two,” he mumbles, dazed.

 

Seunghyun nuzzles into him, the tips of his fingers already threatening to disappear into Jiyong’s hair. “You should walk away before I make it three.”

 

Undoubtedly, number three would result in them rolling around naked in one of his mother’s flower beds. And as appealing as that thought is, he knows Seunghyun is right.

 

So flee he does, untangling himself from Seunghyun’s hold and running up the steps to the back deck without a moment’s hesitation. Soo Jin is standing at the kitchen sink again, but Jiyong ignores her in favor of bolting through the house and up the stairs to his room. Because nothing, _nothing_ , is more important right now than getting in that goddamned shower and attending to his Seunghyun-induced hard-on.

  
  


 

 

*

  
  


 

 

Much to Jiyong’s disappointment, showering does very little to help with his frustration--the hazy pleasure of orgasm only lasting a handful of depressingly short minutes. He takes his time getting dressed after drying off, pulling on an old pair of jeans worn through at the knees and a loose-fitting tank top. Jiyong has no idea where Seunghyun is taking him, but he can always change again (and again and again). He scrubs his towel over his hair once more and drops it in the hamper, opening his door and descending the stairs to meet his uncertain fate in the kitchen. The hour has come for The Talk.

 

Soo Jin smiles at him as he walks in, barely glancing up from her task of preparing vegetables for dinner that evening. Does she know he probably won’t be around for food? Maybe he should bring it up now. Right? He should. But Jiyong just slides onto a stool at the island counter and stays quiet. He doesn’t want to be the person to initiate this conversation, no. This? This is all on his mom.

 

Jiyong listens to the ‘ _ssshhhk_ ’ of her scraping the peeler against a rather large zucchini, and can’t curtail the pronounced roll of his eyes when she finally does speak.

 

“You and Seunghyun seem pretty chummy these days.”

 

He reaches across the counter to steal a carrot stick from another pile, biting into it and munching loudly for a moment while she continues to not look at him. “‘Chummy’ isn’t really the word I’d use,” he murmurs wryly, taking another bite.

 

“No. It isn’t.”

 

 _Sssshhhk_ , _ssshhhk_ , _ssshhhk_. Jiyong thinks about stabbing himself in the eye with the rest of his carrot stick the more the seconds add up and she doesn’t get to the fucking point.

 

“Well, spit it out,” he prods.

 

“He’s a little old for you, don’t you think?” Soo Jin asks quickly, setting down the peeler and now naked zucchini to give him her full attention.

 

“Says the woman who married a man ten years her senior,” Jiyong retorts.

 

She folds her arms in an alarming display of sass and arches one of her eyebrows. “So that’s the way you’re gonna play it.”

 

He laughs. Has to. Jiyong can’t believe this is the angle she’s taking. “Hey, I’m just bringing up a valid point.” He straightens, shoving an annoyed hand through his hair. “It’s not like he’s a bad person. You’ve spent time with him, you _know_ this for a fact. So what does age have to do with any of it?”

 

Gradually, the challenge in Soo Jin’s eyes dissipates and her stiff posture relaxes until she’s bathing him in the ocean of her enduring parental concern.

 

“I just--”

 

“Worry, I know,” Jiyong sighs, cutting her off.

 

She huffs, offering him a tiny smile, and lets her arms fall to her sides. After a beat, she sets aside the zucchini and starts working on removing the glossy, purple skin of a Chinese eggplant. Jiyong watches her for a while, making the mistake of letting his guard down, because the next question is even worse.

 

“Are you being safe, at least?”

 

He gives her a dead-eyed stare for about five seconds, swallowing the hysterical and mortified giggles as he collapses onto the countertop.

 

“We are _not_ talking about my sex life right now. Or ever, preferably. And especially not while you’re peeling penis-shaped vegetables.”

 

“Phallic, sweety,” Soo Jin corrects him.

 

 _Why oh why is this happening?_ “I know what the word is,” Jiyong whines, laughing helplessly as he presses his forehead against the cool marble until it warms.

 

But her question still rattles around in his head and he figures she would probably worry less--pry less--if he told her. Not in detail, obviously, because those details are his and Seunghyun’s and no one else’s, despite Nora’s fear that he’ll start narrating all of his bedroom adventures just to torment her.

 

“I’m being safe. But that’s all you’re getting, so deal with it,” he says, voice quiet.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“You’re most welcome.”

 

Eyelids shut, Jiyong zones out for a period of time he can’t measure. The intermittent _ssshhhk_ of the peeler lures him into this weird, semi-conscious limbo and he wonders, vaguely, what Seunghyun is doing right now. Alan and his crew had gone by the time he came downstairs earlier. They were finished with the yard, but would be back in a month for upkeep, and Jiyong can only imagine how strange it’s going to be to wake up and hear nothing but birdsong.

 

He’s aware of the gentle exhale of his mother’s breath and the clink of metal on the counter. Then it’s the rush of water hitting the sink basin and a rustle of fabric as she dries her hands. He knows this not-quite-silence--can easily envision the uneasy shift of her weight from one foot to the other while she gears up to ask another question. She doesn’t let him down.

 

“Jiyong…”

 

“Mmm,” he hums, letting her know he’s listening.

 

“Are you in love with him?”

 

Jiyong’s eyes fly open and he whips his head up. “ _What?_ I--” His brain struggles to find the words. Fuck, what does he say? “No.” Jiyong winces. “I mean...I don’t know. Maybe...maybe a little?”

 

The fierce heat in his cheeks probably tells his mom all she needs to know, regardless of the word vomit coming out of his mouth. Soo Jin is even smirking at him, which oddly makes Jiyong want to keep explaining.

 

“Listen,” he continues, fingers worming their way back into his hair. “It’s still really new and I think-- I _know_ that by the end of August I’m gonna be screwed.” Jiyong frowns and averts his gaze to stare out the window, muttering more to himself than to his mom, “Who am I kidding, I’m already screwed.”

 

“If he makes you this flustered without even being present, I’d say that’s a pretty safe bet.”

 

He squints at her. “Thank you for your support.”

 

“Sweetpea,” Soo Jin coos, rounding the counter to wrap an arm around him and place a kiss on the top of his head. “I’m not trying to play the bad guy here, okay? I like Seunghyun.” She shakes him when he scoffs. “I do! Really. I just, you know, I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

 

“Mom, I love you, but you can’t protect me forever.” Jiyong leans into her, turning to study her face and contemplate the pros and cons of not only bursting her bubble, but smashing it to pieces.

 

Soo Jin strokes his cheek with her other hand. “I know,” she murmurs, sounding almost sad.

 

“Besides, I’ve already been hurt. Multiple times. Seunghyun isn’t like that.”

 

It’s a compromise, the bubble remaining partially smashed. She’s better off not knowing about all the utter douchebags he’s come into contact with over the years. Soo Jin nods, smiling again, eyes hopeful, as if willing Jiyong’s conviction to prove true. And just like that she slides right back into her usual calm and collected demeanor.

 

“I’m assuming I’m not going to see you for dinner tonight,” she questions archly.

 

Jiyong shakes his head.

 

“Will you be home tonight at all?”

 

Another shake. Soo Jin appears resigned to the fact that she most likely won’t be seeing much of him for the rest of the summer. He feels sort of bad. Because despite their differences, his mom is amazing, and he doesn’t enjoy disappointing her.

 

“So how’s class going?”

 

She visibly lights up at the change in topic and Jiyong grins, glad that she’s so eager to regale him with tales of her harrowing and hilarious life as a college professor. It’s nice, spending time with her again, and he’s actually a little bit bummed when Seunghyun calls him and then whisks him away half an hour later.

  
  


 

 

*

  
  


 

 

_pls stop posting annoyingly  
_ _cute pics on fb it’s hurting  
_ _my feelings_

_But I’m kicking Seunghyun’s  
_ _ass at skee ball and I need  
_ _to gloat._

_how come u never go 2  
_ _the arcade w/ me anymore  
_ _> :(_

_$10 says you forgot it  
_ _even existed until tonight._

_shut uppp_

  
  


Jiyong chuckles to himself and pockets his phone, lifting his head just in time to spot Seunghyun walking over from the restroom. Their eyes meet and his laughter dies, the bottom of his stomach dropping out, and he wonders if this ridiculous, fluttery, twitterpated feeling will ever become less pronounced. Seunghyun gifts him with a smile that is literally eating away at his insides and Jiyong thinks that’s probably not likely, no.

 

“What was so funny?” Seunghyun asks.

 

“Nora’s jealous that we came without her.” He shrugs. “In high school we used to hang out here a lot.”

 

Nodding, Seunghyun winds an arm around Jiyong’s neck and turns towards the skee ball machines, their hard-won tickets creating a tiny mountain on the floor. “Then she’ll have to come with us next time.”

 

Jiyong places his hand at the small of Seunghyun’s back, thumb rubbing slowly over the fabric of his shirt. Should it please him this much that Seunghyun wants to include his best friend in the shit they do? He could easily be selfish, either of them could, but for reasons Jiyong hasn’t uncovered yet, Seunghyun is accumulating brownie points like a champ. Chewing on his lip to reign in the manic grin on his face, he circles his arm fully around Seunghyun’s waist.

 

“I’d like that.”

 

“Good.” Seunghyun side-eyes him. “You up for a few more rounds?”

 

“The ass-beating you got earlier wasn’t enough?”

 

“Maybe I like it when you beat my ass.”

 

And as if that statement wasn’t already too much, Seunghyun winks--mouth spread in the cheesiest fucking smile--and Jiyong loses it, shoving him away to laugh noiselessly into the back of his hand. “I can’t--” he wheezes, bending over and clutching at his stomach. “God, I can’t breathe.”

 

Then there are fingers in his hair; the discordant background melody of arcade games in his ears. But it’s soon overpowered by the gentle rumbling of Seunghyun’s own amusement. Jiyong inhales deeply and straightens, wiping moisture from the corners of his eyes. He really adores that sound.

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

Seunghyun seems pretty self-satisfied by the fact that he made Jiyong laugh so hard he cried.

 

However, Jiyong just expels a heavy, calming breath from his lungs and fishes some tokens out of his pocket. He feeds them into the skee ball machine with a renewed sense of purpose. “Man, I’m gonna destroy you,” he vows.

 

All he gets in return is a lazy chuckle and a sigh, but Jiyong knows Seunghyun is beaming brighter than the fucking sun without even having to look at him.

  
  


 

 

*

  
  


 

 

After another hour of competitive skee ball, air hockey, Street Fighter, and a hysterical demonstration by Seunghyun of How Not to Win Ms. Pacman, they cash out their bounty of tickets and walk through the doors with a big fat bag of treasure. Or candy. Same difference. Jiyong’s already working on a chunk of Laffy Taffy by the time they get to the car and climb inside. He paws at the contents of their spoils for a minute while Seunghyun fiddles with the radio, ripping open a package of plain M&Ms. Jiyong offers Seunghyun a large handful before they leave the parking lot, and has the distinct joy of watching him shove the entire thing into his mouth all at once.

 

“Well done. That was like, half the bag.”

 

“T’ank you,” Seunghyun mumbles around melting chocolate, pulling out onto the two lane highway that will take them home.

 

A giggle slips free from his mouth and Jiyong does nothing to censor it. He rests his head against the seat, body angled so he can study Seunghyun’s profile while he’s not paying attention. The corner of Seunghyun’s lips keep quirking upwards and Jiyong has to temper the urge to lean forward and kiss it.

 

“You’re one to talk, you know,” Seunghyun murmurs, surprising him, because he hadn’t realized they’d come to a stoplight and he’d been caught in the act.

 

Jiyong quickly looks straight ahead at the empty intersection and huffs, sort of embarrassed. Though he doesn’t know why.

 

“About what?” he asks.

 

“About staring a certain way.”

 

So he hadn’t missed that, then. Jiyong smirks and eats another pile of M&Ms as consolation for not being able to eat Seunghyun’s face. “Do you have a problem with that?”

 

“I wouldn’t call it a problem, no.”

 

In his periphery he can still see Seunghyun smiling, the car gliding forward as the light changes from red to green. This is the opposite of helpful when he attempts to keep his voice humor-free.

 

“If you think I’m only interested in you because you’re hot, you’d be 100% correct,” Jiyong deadpans semi-successfully.

 

“Is that so.”

 

“And the fact that you’re also incredibly charming means nothing to me.”

 

Seunghyun lets out a soft, incredulous snort and looks over. “Anything else you don’t care about?”

 

“Let’s see…” Jiyong hums in thought, taking a moment to study him again, candy totally forgotten. “Your perfect sense of humor, your horrible taste in movies--”

 

This makes Seunghyun gasp loudly, one of his hands leaving the steering wheel to fly back and swat at Jiyong’s chest. “I resent that,” he interjects, chuckling.

 

“The way you laugh,” Jiyong continues, ignoring the comment and making Seunghyun crack up even more.

 

 _Music to my goddamn ears_.

 

He basks in the sound for as long as it lasts. But when it fades, he sobers a little--watching Seunghyun in the dark. A smile is quick to find Jiyong as the yellowed glow of a streetlamp flickers over Seunghyun’s features, revealing the prominent dimple indenting his cheek. He breathes in and then out. The final item on his list waits impatiently on the tip of his tongue.

 

“And how--” Jiyong hesitates, his heart having lodged itself in his throat. “How you make me feel.”

 

His words hover in the still air of the car and he wonders if maybe he should’ve just kept his fucking mouth shut instead of letting his feelings get the best of him. He always fucks this part up. It’s too fast--too much too soon. It’s what always sends the other boys running. But then Seunghyun is parking the car and cutting the engine and turning in his seat to face him, expression nothing but curious. Jiyong had forgotten how short the drive was.

 

“Care to elaborate?” Seunghyun asks quietly.

 

Jiyong’s eyebrows knit tightly and his gaze flits away from Seunghyun, to the dashboard and then to the windshield. “Do you want the whole list of emotions? Because we might be here for a while.”

 

There’s a beat of silence, Seunghyun’s gaze eventually locking onto his.

 

“I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me.”

 

 _Jesus_. And there it is. Proof that Jiyong is really dumb for falling prey to his insecurities yet again. He cards unsteady fingers through his hair, allowing his tongue free reign before his brain can swoop in and veto anything, because his brain is fucking stupid.

 

“Crazy?” He laughs. “You make me feel crazy. And nervous and happy, I--”

 

Reaching across the center console, Seunghyun takes Jiyong’s hand, mouth curved and tone skeptical when he asks, “I still make you nervous?”

 

“Almost constantly,” Jiyong confesses, staring down at their linked hands. “But in a good way.”

 

“Any particular reason?”

 

“It freaks me out that I like you so much and we only met a month ago.”

 

He closes his eyes and focuses on how hard his heart is pounding against his ribs now. Jiyong feels Seunghyun’s fingers clench around his; detects the smile in his voice when he speaks up. Conversations like these always scare the shit out of him.

 

“Why does it freak you out?”

 

“Because…” Jiyong’s words catch in his throat again. Opening his eyes, he keeps his head bowed and his concentration on the way their hands look stitched together like this. He remembers how it felt the first time, merely a week ago-- _one fucking week_ \--and the rush it gives him is exactly what he needs to be brave and honest and upfront. “Because I’m leaving at the end of August and I don’t know what that means if we’re gonna keep doing this.”

 

Jiyong lets a breath out, stubbornly not making eye-contact, afraid, maybe, of what he’ll see. Of course Seunghyun shoots that plan to hell.

 

“Jiyong, look at me.”

 

He does and Seunghyun’s resulting smile is brief, but reassuring, and so painfully sweet that Jiyong feels like an even bigger moron. Except it wilts a little as Seunghyun gets serious. Not a stern or upset kind of serious, just a shift in his expression that Jiyong translates into sincerity. It’s difficult to keep looking, but he does.

 

“I don’t want to give you the impression that I’m not interested in what we could be,” Seunghyun begins, easing closer until he’s leaning on the armrest and inserting himself more directly into Jiyong’s space. “But a lot can happen in two months. Your feelings might change--”

 

“--Seunghy--”

 

“--No, listen, please,” Seunghyun begs, squeezing his hand and laughing quietly.

 

Jiyong really, _really_ hopes that Seunghyun doesn’t think he’d change his mind about this after so short a time. But he doesn’t protest, for now, nodding for him to keep going.

 

“What I mean, is that whatever happens, happens. You already know that I think you’re wonderful.” Seunghyun’s lips part on another beautiful smile as he stares intently, almost like he’s determined to make Jiyong believe it himself. Jiyong blushes super hard and ducks his head, but there’s no escape, Seunghyun using his other hand to lift his chin. “And I’m just gonna go ahead and admit right now that falling in love with you is inevitable, since I’m already halfway there,” Seunghyun murmurs, thumb caressing the edge of his jaw. “But I’m not afraid of that. And I’m not afraid of physical distance. I guess what I’m trying to get at here, is that I’m willing to take a chance if you are. Because yeah, it also freaks me out that I like you so much when we only met a month ago, but that’s okay.”

 

“ _Wow_ ,” Jiyong breathes, too flustered to articulate anything more than his utter astonishment.

 

He’s overwhelmed, to put it mildly. His mind, his senses, and one particular internal organ that he refuses to acknowledge in order to keep it from dancing itself to death. Somehow, in the kaleidoscopic mess of thoughts and feelings, he manages to return Seunghyun’s smile--cheeks burning even hotter because he used the ‘L’ word without any hesitation and Jiyong doesn’t even know how to respond. It’s the only time in his life that he wasn’t the person to say it first. Which is such a bizarre thing; to be on the receiving end of that.

 

“You--” Jiyong starts and then stops, totally at a loss.

 

He shakes his head, giving up on trying to use words since they’ve decided to abandon him. Like assholes. So Jiyong just kisses Seunghyun instead, firmly and without room to question whether or not he reciprocates that sentiment. He even untangles their fingers, using both hands to hold Seunghyun’s face and kiss him harder, in case the initial thirty seconds weren’t clear enough.

 

“Why are you so perfect?” he mumbles eventually.

 

“Jiyong I’m not--” Seunghyun huffs in amusement and groans, cutting himself off so he can attach his lips to Jiyong’s again, obviously more interested in kissing than arguing--not that Jiyong’s about to complain--and it’s a number of minutes before either of them finds the motivation to come up for air.

 

“I’m not perfect,” Seunghyun continues, withdrawing a little. “You forget that I’ve got six years on you. It’s not perfection, it’s just...experience.”

 

Right. Experience. Meaning all the people that came before him. Exes, friends, family, acquaintances. Jiyong makes a concerted effort to ignore the call of irrational jealousy. What he can’t ignore, however, is the call of his curiosity.

 

“How, um,” he falters, not sure he even really wants to know this. “How many relationships have you been in, then?”

 

Seunghyun gives him one of those shy, boyish grins and glances away. The ones that always leave Jiyong desperately wanting to smush Seunghyun’s face in his hands and he never gets the chance to act on. A lot like this exact moment.

 

“Actually can we, uh, continue this conversation upstairs?” Seunghyun asks, appearing conflicted about whether he wants to frown or laugh. “My creepy neighbor’s been watching us for the last ten minutes.”

 

Jiyong’s eyebrow twitches. “You have a creepy neighbor.”

 

“Yes,” Seunghyun sighs and the laughter wins as he leans all the way back to undo his seat belt and remove the keys from the ignition. “Her name is Phyllis,” he explains. “She has a lot of dogs. For whatever reason, she enjoys keeping tabs on the whole neighborhood. I think it’s just that collecting gossip makes her feel important.”

 

Turning to look out the window, Jiyong notices the silver-haired woman lingering at the corner flanked by three Corgis, a Boston Terrier, and a Chihuahua in a tiny jacket. _Interesting combination_.

 

“Is that her?”

 

“Yup.”

 

He snorts.

 

“She doesn’t live in your building, does she?”

 

“No, across the street. And that’s just a third of her weird gang of dogs. She’s got this gigantic, terrifying Bullmastiff that I’ve only seen a few times. I swear it’s twice her size.”

 

Jiyong turns around again to stare at him, both eyebrows lifting in preemptive disbelief.

 

“Seunghyun, don’t tell me you’re afraid of dogs.”

 

“I’m not!” Seunghyun shoots back, his defensive tone fading when he adds in a much smaller voice, “Only the ones that look like they could eat me and still be hungry.”

 

His mouth falls open slightly; half of a smile gradually working its way onto his face. It’s less out of shock and more that he can’t believe how fucking precious that is. Jiyong refrains from telling him this.

 

“What?” Seunghyun asks, squinting.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Oh, come on.”

 

But Jiyong just grins and gets out, candy in one hand and his backpack in the other. Seunghyun refuses to let him off the hook, though, and he almost cackles at the way he’s being eyed suspiciously over the roof of the car.

 

“You have to tell me.”

 

“I don’t have to do anything, actually,” Jiyong counters.

 

Seunghyun nods solemnly as he walks around to the other side, thieving the backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. “Pretty sure I can fix that.”

 

“Mhmm,” he hums and brushes past him.

 

Hopping up onto the sidewalk, Jiyong strolls slowly backwards in the direction of the building, beckoning Seunghyun with a crooked finger. Based on the smirk he’s wearing, Jiyong imagines “fixing” his silence will probably involve lots of sex. Which is something he thinks he can definitely live with, if not support. Loudly. And with pompoms.

 

“When you find out what it was, you’re gonna be disappointed. Just saying.”

 

“You should just tell me, then.”

 

“Nope.”

 

Seunghyun frowns as he unlocks the door, taking Jiyong’s hand and pulling them inside. “I’m gonna make you watch Michael Bay movies until you cry.”

 

It should be a testament to his self-control that he doesn’t just pin Seunghyun against the mailboxes and smother him for being the most fantastic person Jiyong has ever met.

  
  


 

 

*

  
  


 

 

A distant sound filters in through Jiyong’s ears and he blinks, his purple, orange and red striped socks coming into focus against the backdrop of his blue carpet. There’s a folded shirt in his hand and his backpack is lying open beside him on the bed.

 

“Jiyong?” his dad calls loudly from downstairs and he realizes that’s what the sound was.

 

“Yeah.” Jiyong clears his throat. “I’ll be there in a second.”

 

He’d come here to swap out his dirty clothes for clean ones and apparently ended up getting distracted by his own thoughts. Laughing at himself, he puts the shirt in the bag and his feet into his shoes, doing his best to shrug off the weird mood because he doesn’t need that today. Also whatever his dad wants better not interfere with his plans. It’s a rare day of freedom from being a buttermonkey and he intends to enjoy it by stuffing his face with frozen yogurt while in the company of Seunghyun and Nora. Which is kind of really super duper important.

 

Jiyong leaves his room and finds his dad spread out on the couch in front of the T.V. watching golf. _Of course_. Though seeing it in HD doesn’t exactly do the sport any favors in the Department of Soul-Crushing Boredom. Placing a hand on his dad’s shoulder, he grips it gently and smiles down at him.

 

“What’s up?”

 

Young Hwan beams back, patting Jiyong’s hand before taking it in his. The twinkle in his eye is both a good and a bad sign and Jiyong attempts to mentally prepare for whatever the fuck might be coming. _Please don’t say anything about money, please don’t say anything about money, please don’t--_

 

“So...due to your being MIA this week, your dear mother wanted me to make an official request on her behalf,” his dad murmurs, still smiling.

 

 _Oh, thank god_. Jiyong relaxes marginally. “And she couldn’t ask me herself, because?”

 

“Because she felt you’d make a bigger deal out of it if it came from her.”

 

Which means...“She wants Seunghyun to come over for dinner, doesn’t she.”

 

“Yes.”

 

Jiyong snorts and Young Hwan chuckles, turning away to look at the television screen.

 

“Well I’m not gonna make a big deal out of it. I knew she’d ask,” he sighs. In fact, he’s surprised she didn’t ask him last Friday in the kitchen. “When?”

 

“That’s your call. Just check in with her first.”

 

He nods his head even though Young Hwan isn’t really paying attention, his dad’s eyes glued to the screen while some old white dude in an argyle sweater-vest tees off. Nora will be here any minute now to come pick him up and he should go wait outside. Should, but doesn’t. He needs to know one more thing before he leaves.

 

“And how do you feel...about all of this?” Jiyong watches his father’s face carefully. “We haven’t really had the chance to talk lately.”

 

Young Hwan’s eyebrows lift first, then the corners of his mouth, and eventually his head as he looks back at Jiyong--regarding him calmly for a long moment before speaking.

 

“Does he make you happy?”

 

Of all questions, this is the easiest to answer. “Yeah,” he says, voice steady. Sure.

 

Squeezing Jiyong’s fingers, his dad pats his hand once more and lets go, his arm falling into his lap.

 

“Then nothing else matters,” Young Hwan replies simply.

 

The grin that creeps onto his face is unexpectedly large, and Jiyong has no idea what he was so afraid of. A lecture, maybe? Disappointment? He leans down to press a kiss into Young Hwan’s salt and pepper hair, feeling really dumb for letting himself think, even for a second, that this would ever be an issue.

 

“You’re the best,” Jiyong mumbles and pulls away.

 

“Love you, too, kiddo.” His dad tries to school his features, returning his gaze to the television in order to hide the pleased blush on his cheeks that he thinks Jiyong can’t see. “Now get out of here, I’m not the one you’d rather be kissing.”

 

Jiyong barks out a laugh, shaking his head as he makes his way towards the front door. God, if only their conversations about _all_ the important shit in life always went as smoothly.

  
  
  


 

 

*

  
  
  


 

 

The fro-yo place by the mall is moderately crowded when they get there--Seunghyun waiting for them outside--and Jiyong kind of wishes it wasn’t currently hot as balls, because the sight of those legs in a pair of ungodly tight cut-offs has him feeling like he’s about to dissolve right into the asphalt. Worse, that Seunghyun catches him ogling and makes him regret it when kissing him hello. One of those kisses where it’s not quite a peck but still remains shy of providing full satisfaction. Jiyong _would_ call it a tease, except that’s sort of being generous, and he contemplates making up a new word for what Seunghyun is, since all the others clearly fail at doing his evils any justice.

 

“Hey,” Seunghyun greets with a quick smile as he withdraws, only to sling his arm around Jiyong’s neck and pull him back in.

 

“Hey yourself,” he grumbles in response.

 

Seunghyun laughs and covers Jiyong’s face with his hand, ignoring every single garbled protest in favor of striking up a casual conversation with Nora while dragging him across the parking lot. It doesn’t get any better once they’re inside, either. Jiyong and Seungyun decide to share, filling their small tub with flavors that probably shouldn’t go together and piling it high with toppings. But when Jiyong moves to pull his wallet out, Seunghyun stops him, insisting on footing the bill. Again. And when his arguments fall on deaf ears, he gives Seunghyun a pointedly arched eyebrow to warn him that this isn’t over.

 

Nora’s already sitting out in front of the building, happily devouring her frozen treat, and Jiyong joins her, plopping down on the long bench with a sigh.

 

“Twahble in pawahdise?” she mumbles, mouth full of Reese’s peanut butter cup and chocolate fudge.

 

Jiyong chuckles at her, shaking his head. “No, I’m just being stubborn.” He lets out another sigh. “What else is new.”

 

Nora finishes chewing and jabs her plastic spoon in his general direction.

 

“Better he find out now about the giant stick up your ass.”

 

“It’s not a giant stick.” Jiyong huffs, crossing his arms. “It’s like a toothpick. At best.”

 

“Dare I ask what you’re talking about?” Seunghyun appears out of thin air, taking the spot on the other side of Jiyong, and sits close enough that their legs are fused together. It’s both a balm and...the opposite of a balm.

 

He opens his mouth to put an end to the conversation before it can go any further, except Nora speaks first, all too happy to throw him under the bus.

 

“In case you haven’t noticed, Jiyong has a lot of stupid hang-ups when it comes to money.”

 

Jiyong smacks her in the arm, but she doesn’t even flinch.

 

“Can we _not_ discuss this right now?”

 

Just when he thinks he’s safe from his dad giving him shit for the millionth time, his friends have to step in.

 

Thankfully, Seunghyun refrains from saying anything and Nora mutters an apology, quietly going back to shoveling fro-yo into her big, dumb mouth. Jiyong frowns, wedging his arms a little tighter over his chest. The pressure against his thigh increases, but he maintains his stubborn attitude and keeps his eyes on the ground. Though Seunghyun doesn’t seem to be disheartened by this and leans in, taking a spoonful of frozen yogurt and making it dance in front of his face. Jiyong follows it with his eyes, nibbling on his lip as hard as he can, because there’s a burst of laughter in his chest that’s demanding release and he’s not supposed to be laughing damnit.

 

“You know you want it,” Seunghyun teases, voice low in his ear.

 

Jiyong snorts, still trying not to crack, but it’s clear that Seunghyun has sensed his imminent victory--grinning at him as he smears some of the frozen yogurt against the tip of Jiyong’s nose. It’s no surprise that they both end up cackling and Seunghyun uses the opportunity to finally stuff the spoon into his mouth.

 

“Naht faiwh.”

 

“Your mouth was open.”

 

“Dudes, gross,” Nora groans.

 

Licking the spoon clean, Jiyong lifts a hand to wipe off his nose, and he smiles. “I’m surprised you didn’t make airplane noises.”

 

“It’s a little early in our relationship for airplane noises, don’t you think?” Seunghyun asks in mock seriousness.

 

“My apologies,” he drawls, smile softening as he inches closer. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

 

Jiyong’s gaze flickers back and forth from Seunghyun’s eyes to his lips; lips that gradually curve upwards as the space between them narrows.

 

“Guys, come onnnn.”

 

But Nora’s whining is ignored and he tilts his head, pressing a lingering kiss to Seunghyun’s cheek. What Jiyong really wants to do is crawl into his lap and make out with him (for starters). Though being in public _and_ surrounded by impressionable children makes Jiyong think better of it, and he settles for the PG-rated alternative. An alternative he’s quite pleased with when Seunghyun turns to nuzzle gently against his face.

 

“You’re the worst kind of couple, you know that?” Nora continues to complain. “The kind that participates in heinous displays of PDA without any concern for innocent bystanders. AKA their painfully single friends.”

 

“Don’t listen to her, she’s still in the closet for hopeless romantics,” he mutters, reluctantly drawing away and jamming his spoon into their melting tub of fro-yo. Then he freezes. “Wait, what happened to that girl you just started wooing? The pre-med student.”

 

Graceful even in her slouch against the bench, Nora tucks a few errant curls behind her ear and releases a sigh that can only be categorized as Fucking Done. She glances at Jiyong, shrugging. “My mom happened.”

 

“Shit, again?”

 

Dropping the spoon, he reaches over to wrap his fingers around her wrist.

 

“Yeah. Jasmine couldn’t handle my mom’s crazy on top of everything else so she peaced out.”

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

“I...didn’t think it was worth bringing up?” Nora shrugs again, something she does a lot when she’s uncomfortable. “It’s not like we were in love.”

 

“Still, that sucks.”

 

A third lift of her shoulders.

 

“It’s okay.”

 

“No, I mean--” Jiyong pauses, using all the self-control he possesses not to laugh. “You didn’t even get to show her the world. Shining, shimmering, splendid.”

 

There are a few excruciatingly poignant beats of silence before Nora side-eyes him really hard and rips her arm out of his grasp to stand.

 

“I’m not sitting next to you anymore. Seunghyun is nicer.”

 

“A couple weeks ago you were ready to go all Italian mobster on his ass.” Jiyong argues. “And he’s laughing!” He points accusingly at his boyfriend who is shaking beside him.

 

“That was before, this is now.” She collapses into the spot on Seunghyun’s right, batting her eyelashes at him. “You’ll forgive me, right?”

 

“I already have,” Seunghyun assures her and bites down on another giggle.

 

“See? He’s a sweetheart.” Nora picks up her tub of fro-yo, eating another gooey spoonful of Reese’s peanut butter cup, and stares out at the parking lot. He watches her cozy up to Seunghyun and hold out the container. “You should try this, by the way, I get it every time I come here.”

 

When Seunghyun dips his own spoon into the mess--collecting a small heap of fudge and yogurt and peanut butter--Jiyong allows himself a secretive smile, actually having to turn away briefly to let it eat his face before he can control it. And when they begin talking, he stays quiet, just settling his weight against Seunghyun’s side and listening without really paying attention. He knows Nora’s only pretend-pissed because she didn’t get to make the Aladdin joke before he did. He also knows that she knows he only did it to make her feel better. As far as he can tell, it worked. Because she’s laughing--curls bouncing as she throws her head back--and her eyes are lighter.

 

Later, Jiyong tells Seunghyun that Nora sharing her beloved frozen dairy products with anyone is a serious badge of honor. Seunghyun’s responding grin is so blinding he doesn’t have the heart to bring up their almost-argument, and decides to leave it for another time.

  
  


 

 

*

  
  


 

 

Jiyong doesn’t really remember when they made the unspoken decision about him sleeping over every night. It makes sense, because the theater is so close, and even though it’s only been a little over a week since his unofficial move-in, he feels more comfortable waking up in Seunghyun’s apartment than he ever has at home. Which should probably be setting off some kind of figurative distress signal, but every time he thinks he might start to panic, he just replays the exact words Seunghyun said to him that night in the car. Especially the part where a particular four-letter word was used.

 

His eyes are closed, but he’s been awake for a while now--kept up by his brain’s strange and unending train of thought. So when Seunghyun stirs and stretches next to him, Jiyong is instantly filled with relief that he doesn’t have to lay there overanalyzing everything to death anymore.

 

“G’morning.”

 

The salutation puffs warmly against his shoulder and he smiles, eyelids heavy when they lift open, and he peers down at Seunghyun.

 

“How did you know I was awake?”

 

Easing closer, Seunghyun pushes his face into Jiyong’s neck and smiles back. “Educated guess.”

 

He laughs, freeing a hand to comb through Seunghyun’s hair, earning himself a low rumble of approval. It’s kind of impossible to describe how nice it is to have mornings like this. Jiyong isn’t even supposed to enjoy the hours between dawn and 1PM, and yet here he is, conscious before noon and happy about it. He’s pretty sure it’s all Seunghyun’s fault, turning him into a _morning person_. He almost shudders at the thought.

 

“Do you work today?”

 

“Next job starts ‘n Monday, ‘member?” comes the slurred reply.

 

Jiyong’s eyes roll to the ceiling and he sighs.

 

“Obviously not, or I wouldn’t be asking, smart-ass.”

 

“I just woke up. Cut me some slack,” Seunghyun whines, but he’s laughing too. And groaning and stretching and rubbing all of his gloriously smooth skin against Jiyong’s body. “Your shift starts at one, right?”

 

“Yeah,” he breathes, holding back a groan of his own.

 

“So that leaves us…” Seungyun trails off, blinking sluggishly when he hauls himself up to check the clock on his side table. “Approximately three hours.”

 

“Wonder how we’ll pass the time.”

 

Seunghyun whuffs softly and grins, letting Jiyong reel him back in for morning kisses.

 

“We could do a lot in three hours, you know,” Seunghyun muses between lazily attacking Jiyong’s mouth. “Like build a fort.”

 

The beginnings of a smile pull at his cheeks.

 

“Or play Monopoly.”

 

Jiyong snorts here, his descent into Giggledom just around the corner.

 

“Or eat pancakes and then play Monopoly _inside_ the fort. Maybe shower.”

 

But this is where he gives up and allows his amusement to roll through him, forehead pressed to Seunghyun’s cheek while he falls apart.

 

“Oh, what if w--”

 

“ _Seunghyun_ ,” Jiyong finally interrupts, inhaling deeply to calm the tremors in his stomach, and leans away.

 

Seunghyun returns his stare, innocent and wide-eyed and not fooling anyone for a second. “Yes, Jiyong.”

 

Stomach clenching, he digs his teeth into his bottom lip, because he can sense future batches of laughter getting ready to launch themselves from his mouth, but he can’t let them or he’ll die. The fact that he can even speak at all is a miracle.

 

“It’s annoying how funny you are.”

 

“Mhmm,” Seunghyun hums wryly. “My amazing sense of humor is what brings _all_ the boys to the yard.”

 

Jiyong’s eyebrows raise as he surrenders and covers his face, snuffling into his hands. “Oh my god, stop.”

 

He hears Seunghyun chuckle and then feels him shift, moving to straddle Jiyong’s waist. His arms sink into the pillow on either side of Jiyong’s head--breath fanning out against the backs of his fingers and his cheek, the soft hairs at his temple. Its gentle heat washes over the ridge of Jiyong’s ear and he nearly wriggles away.

 

“But I really like making you laugh.”

 

“Well, you’re really fucking good at it,” he replies, words strained and muffled by his palms.

 

Jiyong has to swallow a quiet moan when Seunghyun settles himself more firmly on top of Jiyong’s hips and uses his stupid, sexy, rumbly voice to ask, “You know what else I’m really fucking good at?”

 

Cautiously, he spreads his fingers a little to sneak a peek at Seunghyun.

 

“What?”

 

His serious expression disappears, instantly replaced by the sunniest, dimpled smile.

 

“Making pancakes.”

 

Hands falling away, Jiyong hides in the crook of Seunghyun’s elbow, laughter more silent than anything while Seunghyun curls around him completely. He’s got tears in his eyes and his heart hurts with the good kind of pain. _God, the best pain_.

 

He needs a moment, but he does manage to relearn what lungs are for, wiping at his face and avoiding eye-contact so that he won’t lose another five minutes to convulsing uncontrollably. “I have a better idea,” he announces, lips twitching defiantly anyway. “Sex first, pancakes later.” Because despite all the dying, he’s been low-key aroused since Seunghyun woke up and decided to use him as a giant, human body pillow and he’d really like to do something about it.

 

Seunghyun’s nose drags along the edge of his jaw, teasing. “Last night wasn’t enough for you?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“One of these days I’ll wear you out.”

 

“Good luck with that,” Jiyong murmurs, smiling broadly, and welcomes the invasion when Seunghyun finally kisses him and slides his tongue into his mouth.

 

It doesn’t take long for them to get hard, just like this. Fingers wander and dip into body curves; their lips clumsy, but soft. He whimpers an absurd amount--the firm press of Seunghyun’s weight and the unhurried grind of his hips enough to drive him absolutely crazy. Not to mention the effortless way he lays waste to Jiyong’s self-control by sucking on his neck and his collarbone. It really would be a shame to come right now. Gratifying? Hell yeah. But not exactly what he had in mind when he suggested they get it on.

 

Jiyong moans low in his throat, blunt nails scratching at Seunghyun’s back, the pressure against his cock way too much. “W-wait, hold on,” he pants, hands finding Seunghyun’s hips to stop them from finishing the job. “Roll over.”

 

Seunghyun pauses, mouth hovering centimeters from his skin. “Why?” He almost sounds put-out.

 

“Because I wanna ride you, that’s why,” Jiyong explains, and can’t help but succumb to another round of laughter when Seunghyun quickly does as he’s told. “Where’d you put the lube?”

 

“Uhh, think I kicked it onto the floor. Do you want me to help?”

 

Climbing off the bed, he nudges aside discarded articles of clothing, but doesn’t find the large tube until he gets down on his hands and knees, spotting it just under the dresser. Triumphantly, Jiyong nabs it and returns to flop back on the mattress. “No, I want you to watch.”

 

A few seconds tick by where Seunghyun is suspiciously mute and Jiyong angles his head to look up at him. Except Seunghyun’s eyes are shut--lip caught in his teeth and breathing deep.

 

Jiyong smirks. “Unless you’d rather do it.”

 

“No,” Seunghyun answers immediately, his eyelids lifting halfway, and the heat in Jiyong’s gut multiplies tenfold. “I just can’t promise I won’t interrupt,” he adds, reaching out to brush the hair away from his forehead.

 

“Interruptions are encouraged.”

 

He gets a tight laugh in response, Seunghyun rearranging himself to lean against the wall. Jiyong shifts, too, twisting around to face him--feet flat on the bed, knees bent. A ripple of nervous energy bursts through and then echoes inside of his stomach when he pops the cap. He hasn’t actually done this. Fingering himself, yeah, of course, but not with an audience. Not for the purpose of someone else’s enjoyment on top of his own. Jiyong wonders if Seunghyun can tell that his bravado is almost always half-assed. _Probably_. Still, it doesn’t stop the anticipation from building when he squeezes the thick liquid into his hand.

 

Fingers slick with lube, he pushes up onto his elbows and spreads his feet further apart, not looking over at Seunghyun until he’s got his hand between his legs and his middle finger in past the second knuckle. Jiyong exhales the breath he’d been holding when he sees the glazed look in Seunghyun’s eyes as they travel down from his face to his chest, to his cock and then to his hand where he’s slowly working another finger in beside the first. It replaces the nervous energy with a jolt of something a little more potent; more heady. Because Seunghyun’s gaze is molten and Jiyong swears he can feel it roaming over his body like Seunghyun is already touching him. Already plotting where to touch him when he snaps, because Jiyong can see that too.

 

Third finger added, he has to let his head drop onto the mattress and stop thinking. Stop looking. Otherwise he might actually come now and this is only the prologue. Jiyong rocks his hips and lifts his legs, using his other arm to hook it around his thigh, to change the angle and go deeper and--

 

He gasps, mouth falling open when he taps his prostate by accident, and has to groan because _fuck, yeah that’s...that’s nice_. Jiyong does it again, this breathy sound resonating in his throat as his hips jerk at the sensation. He’s kind of seriously in the zone there for a second, concentrating on the buzz of pleasure and the slide of his fingers and little else. Which is why it surprises him when all of a sudden there’s a hand in his hair and Seunghyun is kissing him like they’ve only got one hour left to live.

 

“You’re insanely hot,” Seunghyun pants, laughing against Jiyong’s lips. “Did you know that?”

 

Jiyong grins and tries to scoff, but his breath hitches instead since his fingers are still buried in his ass. He pushes them in a tiny bit deeper, trembling slightly from the strain and because Seunghyun’s face is slack with longing--longing that Jiyong is the reason for--which is...a massive turn on, to say the least.

 

“Seunghyun.” He touches their lips together, applying the barest hint of pressure to reclaim his focus.

 

Seunghyun doesn’t respond right away, mouth slanting into a dopey half-smile as he stares, thumb stroking over Jiyong’s cheekbone.

 

“What?”

 

“Condom,” Jiyong reminds him, and gingerly removes his fingers before relaxing onto the bed with a sigh.

 

Seunghyun nods, clearing his throat. “Right. Good idea,” he mumbles, but doesn’t make any moves to do so until Jiyong uses his non-lube-covered hand to poke him in the stomach.

 

“C’mon, do you wanna eat pancakes or not?”

 

“Are you implying that I want pancakes more than I want you?” One of Seunghyun’s eyebrows twitches upwards as he leans back to open the side table drawer.

 

“No,” Jiyong smiles. “But I also want pancakes, and if we run out of time it’s officially your fault for being too slow.”

 

The other eyebrow joins the first. “Ohh, so _that’s_ how it is.”

 

“That’s definitely how it is.”

 

Wiping his fingers off, Jiyong sits up, shuffling on his knees across the bed. Seunghyun’s head is bowed as he tears the package and rolls the condom down over his cock; doesn’t say a word until he’s laying comfortably against the pillows.

 

“Then why don’t you giddyup?” Seunghyun suggests, looking remarkably smug while gesturing to his dick.

 

At first, Jiyong doesn’t know how to react, because how does anyone even say that with a straight face?  It’s like he’s in some weird cowboy-themed porno and he thinks his expression must be some kind of horrified when Seunghyun lets out a weak huff and glances away, blushing.

 

“Still think I’m funny?”

 

Jiyong snorts, crawling forward to straddle his hips, and bends low. “Hilarious,” he mumbles against Seunghyun’s mouth, kissing him lightly.

 

“Good,” Seunghyun whispers and brings his hands up to trail them along Jiyong’s sides.

 

“Permission to mount?” he asks through yet another laugh, this one strangled and verging on hysterical because he can’t fucking help himself, and Seunghyun’s body shakes beneath him--smile a mile wide where it’s pressed to the side of his face.

 

Honestly, Jiyong is almost 110% certain that he’s never laughed this much during sex. Or laughed this much with another human being aside from maybe Nora or Felix. Observing Seunghyun as he works through his own outburst, Jiyong concludes that there’s literally nothing more magical than watching him break down.

 

Especially when he wheezes, “Permission granted”, and Jiyong needs to close his eyes just so he doesn’t end up collapsing on top of him in a useless heap. Because then there wouldn’t be sex _or_ pancakes and that would just be the worst kind of tragedy.

 

So Jiyong collects himself, rises onto his knees, and scootches backwards to sit on Seunghyun’s thighs.

 

It has the desired effect, Seunghyun sobering almost instantly. He fights the ghosts of laughter in his stomach muscles, which is pretty difficult when Seunghyun is just laying there staring at him with this annoyingly fond smile on his face, but he manages. Jiyong squeezes more lube into his hand and applies it to Seunghyun’s cock, noting the way his fingers clench at the sheets; the way he licks his lips and tries not to squirm. It’s fleeting, but Jiyong almost decides to ditch the riding in favor of staying right where he is, so he can watch Seunghyun writhe beneath him while he jacks him off. But then Seunghyun extends a hand to draw him forward again and it passes.

 

Jiyong feels the slippery wetness of Seunghyun’s cock between his ass cheeks and has to tell himself not to start salivating, summoning just enough patience to let Seunghyun wrap his fingers around the base so Jiyong can line himself up. He sinks down in small increments, taking him in easily, and needs to close his eyes a second time once he’s fully seated. A rush of breath leaves his lungs--mouth hanging open while he clutches at Seunghyun’s hand.

 

There _were_ words he wanted to say, or thought about saying, but whatever comes out isn’t a word at all, just air and a faint vibration of noise. He blames Seunghyun’s dick, mostly. Because whenever they have sex, he always goes a little brain dead, and he’d be a lot more embarrassed about it if it was with anyone else.

 

“Doin’ all right up there?” Seunghyun’s touch drifts along his thighs and up to his waist, making his eyelids flutter, and he nods.

 

“Yeah.”

 

His lips part on a smile when Seunghyun rubs his thumbs into Jiyong’s skin; over his hipbones and his abdomen, circling around his navel. Without really thinking about it, he arches into the caresses, rolling his body above Seunghyun in a slow ‘S’, and he moans quietly--revelling in the sensation of being filled.

 

“I--” he sighs, slumping forward to rest his forehead on Seunghyun’s shoulder, hips swiveling down against Seunghyun’s pelvis. “God, you feel so good,” Jiyong groans.

 

And it’s true, even though internally he’s cringing because it seemed like a way less dumb thing to say when it was still in his head. Seunghyun apparently doesn’t mind that his brain-to-mouth filter is broken, however, fingers kneading at Jiyong’s ass while he rocks up off the mattress, subsequently pulling out another groan from deep in his gut.

 

“ _So_ good,” he blurts again, making Seunghyun laugh.

 

“C’mere, you dork.”

 

Lifting onto both hands, Jiyong hovers just out of reach, pleased when Seunghyun lets go of his ass to cup his jaw and twist his fingers in Jiyong’s hair and yank him close. He teases at Seunghyun’s lips with his tongue and his teeth, swallows every needy sound, deposits some of his own. Seunghyun grins into the kiss, chuckling some more after Jiyong’s grinding veers towards desperate rutting.

 

“Slow down,” Seunghyun mumbles.

 

One hand drops to his waist, guiding his movement. Jiyong spreads his knees even further and tilts his hips; lets Seunghyun fuck up into him as slow as he wants.

 

“Yes, sir,” he replies, returning the grin and dragging it across Seunghyun’s cheek.

 

The fingers still in his hair clench and tug as Seunghyun nuzzles into his neck, biting at his earlobe and using the other hand to squeeze his thigh. Jiyong gasps, a jolt of pleasure zipping through him. Now he can’t really muster the energy to think much of anything beyond the continuous roll of his hips--beyond the slide of Seunghyun’s cock and all of the delicious heat under his skin. Or the fingers that keep roaming over his thigh and his ass; the sweat forming between their bodies.

 

When they find an even, steady rhythm, Jiyong relaxes into it, nose bumping Seunghyun’s with each deliberate thrust. Jiyong loves the noises that come out of Seunghyun’s mouth. The loud sighs and low whimpers and the hitched moans that get stuck in his throat when something feels more than perfect. It all adds to the sensory explosion, and every time Seunghyun clutches at him tightly and bucks his hips a little harder; every time he kisses Jiyong like it’s The Best Thing Ever, Jiyong is that much closer to losing his damn mind.

 

And now that Seunghyun is a lot less likely to interfere, he eagerly rocks down against him. Faster, rougher, thighs starting to burn as he chases after his orgasm. In response, Seunghyun groans and throws his head back on the pillows. Jiyong takes one look at the arch of Seunghyun’s neck and nearly whines, leaning in to nibble his way down the length of it--tongue pressed flat to salted skin and tingling from the vibrations in Seunghyun’s throat.

 

“ _Fuck_ , Jiyong,” Seunghyun pants, and Jiyong knows he’s close, too.

 

Pulling away, he grabs hold of Seunghyun’s hand, bringing it towards him and manually wrapping it around his cock. Jiyong doesn’t let go, either, fingers overlapping with Seunghyun’s as he pumps both of their fists up and down, his hips faltering in their rhythm. He has all of two seconds to prepare when he registers the intent in Seunghyun’s eyes, moaning when Seunghyun lurches off the bed and crushes their lips together.

 

Jiyong shudders, coiling his other arm around Seunghyun’s neck, and covers his mouth and his face with sloppy, formless kisses. “I’m--” He chokes out a small whimper, well outside the limits of embarrassment now and functioning on autopilot. “I’mgonnacome,” Jiyong breathes. “ _Godpleasemakemecome_.”

 

 _Pleasepleaseplease_ , he repeats in his head, except a part of him is almost definitely certain that he’s saying it for real, because Seunghyun’s fist starts moving faster under his and then his muscles are tensing and the pressure in his gut hits that sweet fucking ceiling. No noise comes out when he orgasms, just one heavy exhale after another. Jiyong twitches in Seunghyun’s grasp, feels himself clench around Seunghyun’s cock while blood rushes in his ears, head filling with a hazy sort of warmth. Then the sheets are at his back, Seunghyun gently lowering him to the mattress. He automatically lets his knees fall open; lets Seunghyun do whatever he needs to do to follow, and welcomes the slow build in speed as Seunghyun’s thrusts start to come harder.

 

All Jiyong can hear is the smack of Seunghyun’s body when it connects with his and the ragged breaths against his skin. His eyes are screwed shut, head lolling off the edge of the bed, feeling raw and overstimulated. He kind of wishes he could orgasm again because it’s always so fucking sexy when Seunghyun loses control. Pushing his fingers into Seunghyun’s damp hair, Jiyong scratches his nails against his scalp and feels him go stiff--hips jerking a couple more times and grunting as he turns boneless and drops.

 

For a long moment all they do is to lie there, panting. Jiyong continues playing with Seunghyun’s hair, rubbing at his nape and working his way up the back of his head.

 

“Hnnnh,” Seunghyun groans into his shoulder.

 

Jiyong’s eyes are still closed, flirting with unconsciousness. It’ll be impressive if either of them has the strength to get up after this.

 

“You’re the best,” Seunghyun speaks again, words thick with exhaustion.

 

He yanks halfheartedly at the lock of hair in his hand. “Stop it.”

 

“I refuse.” Seunghyun sounds more like a sleepy child whining about an early bedtime and Jiyong’s whole body jumps as he emits a tired laugh. “You’re incredible.”

 

“You mean that’s not just your dick talking?”

 

“Jiyong,” Seunghyun warns--though it’s a pitiful warning because he still sounds like he’s whining--and throws a hand up to knock him in the face.

 

“ _Ow_ , hey, I’m kidding,” he giggles, snatching the abusive limb and holding it captive against his chest. Jiyong gives his muscles an experimental stretch and groans, skeptical about their chances of a successful escape when he melts back into position under Seunghyun’s weight. “Can we just take a shower already before we become one with the bed?”

 

“Learn how to accept compliments first.”

 

“Shit, looks like we’re stuck here forever,” Jiyong quips, more sarcastic than serious. But sort of actually serious.

 

Seunghyun bears it with a long sigh, lifting his head just enough to squint down at him, unamused. “I know what you’re thinking.”

 

“Oh?”

 

 _Why doesn’t that surprise me?_ Seunghyun seems to pick up on his bullshit a lot quicker lately. Not like it’s hard to figure out. Averting his eyes, Jiyong lets his head bounce back against the mattress, staring at nothing in particular. But Seunghyun is having none of that and he shifts up along Jiyong’s body until Jiyong can’t look anywhere else.

 

“It’s not the post-orgasmic high.” Seunghyun settles on top of him, gaze softening to something near adoration, and Jiyong has a hard time holding it without feeling like his chest cavity’s about to collapse. Sighing again, he leans in to press his forehead to Jiyong’s. “You’re incredible because you make me feel incredible and that includes every hour of the day that we’re not fucking.”

 

“You sure sound like you’re high,” Jiyong mutters, laughing, because that’s what he does when he doesn’t know how to deal with the enormity of his feelings and other people having feelings and--

 

“Shut up.” Seunghyun nudges into him. “I mean it.”

 

He huffs and goes quiet.

 

“I know.”

 

“So…?”

 

_So what?_

 

Realizing that you’re being taught a lesson and actually absorbing it into your brain are two very different things, and Jiyong thinks he might be getting there, but that it’s not going to magically happen with a snap of his fingers. The fact that Seunghyun cares so much about his _self esteem_ of all things feels...silly, even though he knows it’s not. Slipping his arms up and around Seunghyun’s waist, Jiyong hugs him tight, mentally curb-stomping his urge to err on the side of self-deprecation.

 

“Thank you, Seunghyun,” he whispers.

 

After letting the words hang there in the space between their mouths, he finds that he means them, and he trusts Seunghyun to understand that they speak for more than just the compliment. Jiyong receives a kiss in answer, Seunghyun’s lips molding gently to his. They both smile.

 

“I think this calls for some celebratory cakes of the pan variety,” Seunghyun murmurs, withdrawing to plant more kisses all over him.

 

Jiyong squirms and a giggle rockets out of his nose. “Definitely high.”

 

“High on you.”

 

“Oh god, go _away_.” He promptly shoves Seunghyun off of him, turning to drag himself from the bed so Seunghyun won’t see the enormous grin that is currently trying to annihilate his face.

 

“I’m just keepin’ it real,” Seunghyun calls after him as he heads for the shower.

 

Jiyong nearly falls over he laughs so hard, using the wall to support himself so he doesn’t stumble into any of Seunghyun’s enormous potted plants. When he makes it to the bathroom, Jiyong hears the sound of Seunghyun humming the opening bars of “My Girl”, the melody getting louder as he follows from down the hall. The door shuts, the water turns on. Seunghyun starts to sing the lyrics under his breath and then cracks up when he reaches the chorus.

 

“‘My boy’ doesn’t really have the same ring to it, does it?”

 

Rolling his eyes, Jiyong just pushes Seunghyun into the shower, chuckling when he keeps using the altered pronoun anyway.

 

 _I’m in love with an idiot_ , he muses, sliding the glass shut behind them. _Please send help_.


	5. Part 5

_Jiyong, I really am sorry._

_I don’t know why you’re  
_ _making such a big deal out  
_ _of it, we both know I’ve said  
_ _and done WAY more  
_ _offensive things than this._

_Seriously, come on man._

_Don’t be mad._

_Jiyong_

_J i y o n g_

_~J~I~Y~O~N~G~_

_I have an army of poop  
_ _emojis and I’m not afraid  
_ _to use them._

  
  


Jiyong leans back against the armrest of Seunghyun’s couch, knees drawn up and phone in hand as he scrolls through all the texts Felix sent him over the last few days. He sighs and comes very close to rolling his eyes, because if anyone’s making a big deal out of shit, it’s Felix not him. Although Jiyong supposes he’s partly at fault for taking this long to respond.

  
  


_I’m not mad, Felix._

__  
  


_So why the silent  
_ _treatment?_

  
  


The response is immediate and Jiyong snorts, curling up against the cushions.

  
  


_I’ve just been busy, that’s_   
_all._

__  
  


_“Busy” he says._

_You’re totally holding out  
_ _on me, aren’t you._

__  
  


_Absolutely_

  
  


When Jiyong’s phone rings a second later, he does roll his eyes, swiping the screen and bringing it to his ear.

 

“He--”

 

“--dude, what the fuck? How dare you n--”

 

“--Felix, chill out,” he cuts in, chuckling.

 

There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the line before Felix speaks again.

 

“How big is his dick?”

 

“Oh my god,” Jiyong groans and slaps a hand over his face. “This, _this_ , is why I didn’t wanna say anything.”

 

“But--” Felix tries to protest, except Jiyong isn’t having any of it, not bothering to censor himself when Seunghyun walks into the living room.

 

“No, Felix, I am not going to tell you how big his dick is. Or how often we have sex, if he’s a screamer, and not even if he spits or swallows.”

 

Seunghyun pauses on his way to the kitchen to throw him a quirked eyebrow over his shoulder and Jiyong just smiles.

 

“You’ve changed, man,” Felix replies in his ear, tone somber.

 

His smile softens a little, watching Seunghyun through the kitchen doorway as he reaches into the fridge and starts drinking milk directly from the carton.

 

“Or maybe this actually means something and I don’t wanna talk about him like he’s my robot boyfriend whose only purpose is to fuck me,” Jiyong shoots back.

 

“Wow.”

 

“What?”

 

“Well, for one, you said The Big Bad “B” Word,” Felix drawls.

 

 _Damnit_. He closes his eyes briefly and pinches the bridge of his nose, attempting nonchalance. “Yeah, and?”

 

“No playing coy with me, young man. You know you have the worst poker face.”

 

“But you can’t see my face.”

 

“Fine, the worst poker _voice_ , don’t make this about semantics, asshole.”

 

Jiyong laughs. “Will you promise to put Diva Felix in time out?”

 

“Yes. I swear on my _abuela_ ’s grave.”

 

“Both of your grandmothers are still alive.”

 

“Details.” He hear Felix clear his throat theatrically. “Now come on and deliver the goods.”

 

“Disrespectful grandchildren don’t get rewards. I’m gonna tell your mom about this next time we go to your house,” he taunts and Felix gasps.

 

“You wouldn’t dare.”

 

“Wanna bet?”

 

“Then next time you’re at my house, you don’t get any of my mom’s fucking amazing empanadas.”

 

“ _No_ ,” Jiyong sort of shouts, lurching up from his sprawl like he can actually do something about this from almost a thousand miles away.

 

“Oh, yes,” Felix insists, threat clear in his voice. But it disappears as soon as he continues. “You know, she still refers to you as “ _mi cerdito_ ” because you ate so many she thought you were literally going to pass out.”

 

“I almost did.” He laughs again, turning to moan into the pillows. “Ugh, but it was worth the pain.”

 

“She took it as a compliment.”

 

“Because your mom is the shit.” _Unlike you_ , Jiyong supplies mentally.

 

“She’s also terrifying and I swear to god if you repeat any of this I will never speak to you again.”

 

“ _Jesus_ , all right, I won’t.”

 

He sits up, crossing his legs. Felix’s relieved sigh filters through the receiver and then he clears his throat a little less theatrically this time. Jiyong knows what’s coming.

 

“So...about your non-robot boyfriend.”

 

“Felix.”

 

“Empanadas in exchange for information. Deal or no deal?”

 

“I genuinely hate you sometimes,” Jiyong mumbles, scowling. He’s so weak. _So weak_. “Deal,” he whines in defeat. “But only yes or no questions.”

 

“I can work with that,” Felix says, his excitement palpable, and Jiyong cards a hand through his hair while he listens to his friend hum in exaggerated thought before asking, “Is he really your boo?”

 

He huffs slightly, lifting his head to find Seunghyun munching on an apple and leaning against the counter, watching him. Jiyong doesn’t look away when he answers.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Is he...fantastic in bed?”

 

His cheeks heat slightly at this and Seunghyun squints at him, wearing a very amused smile as he takes another bite. Jiyong has no idea what Seunghyun must be thinking of this bizarre one-sided conversation, but he has a pretty solid feeling Seunghyun knows what’s up.

 

“Yes,” he replies, still staring.

 

“That’s my boy,” Felix crows and Jiyong imagines he had to stop himself from high-fiving the air even though he’s probably alone in his room. “Have you stayed over?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“More than once?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Damn, Ji.” Felix pauses. “Wait, are you there right now?”

 

He grins broadly. “Yes.”

 

“Is _he_ there right now?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Oh my god, let me talk to him.”

 

Jiyong’s eyes go wide. “No way.” He finally drops his gaze, turning to plant both feet on the floor.

 

“Pretty please. I’ll make you a mountain of enchiladas verdes when you come back so you can rub them all over your body and cry happy tears,” Felix blurts all at once.

 

A frown pulls at the corners of his mouth. He pretends he isn’t aware of the fact that Seunghyun has left the kitchen and is currently wandering towards him.

 

“No more bribing me with food. It’s not happening.”

 

“But I know it’s your weakness. Just like--”

 

“I’m gonna hang up in five seconds if you don’t stop,” Jiyong interrupts, feeling the couch dip beside him when Seunghyun sits down.

 

“You’re no fun.”

 

He swears he can _hear_ Felix pouting and he heaves a sigh, falling back into a slouch, pressing his shoulder against Seunghyun’s in the process.

 

“And you’re just gonna give him the third degree.”

 

“Am I that predictable?” Felix asks.

 

“Yeah, you are.” Jiyong’s gaze catches on Seunghyun’s bare feet as he props them up on the coffee table and he swallows a laugh when he wiggles his toes. “But if you swear to behave, maybe I’ll make an exception for another time. We have to leave soon.”

 

“So it’s ‘ _we_ ’ already?”

 

“Shut the fuck up,” he grumbles.

 

“Touchy, touchy.” Felix tsks and then murmurs wryly, ”What’s next, exchanging vows?”

 

“Oh my god, you’re insane. I’ll talk to you later.”

 

“Say hello to Mr. Dimples for me.”

 

“ _Bye_ , Felix.”

 

Jiyong ends the call and throws his phone to the other side of the couch, pushing his face into Seunghyun’s arm until Seunghyun lifts it over his head and pulls him into his body. A sense of calm seeps into muscles he didn’t realize were tense--the knot in his brow easing, frown vanishing. It’s not that he doesn’t love joking around with Felix. Honestly. But being interrogated like that again just stresses him the fuck out. Jiyong remembers how eager he used to be to gossip about _boys_. Boys he drunkenly made out with at parties, boys he awkwardly flirted with, the small handful he somehow managed to go home with, and the three he’d actually dated. Because until Felix, Nora had been his only outlet, and given the fact that she’s a lesbian, it kind of left a lot to be desired. So finally having someone to talk to was like opening the fucking floodgates. Except now that Seunghyun is part of the picture, now that Jiyong actually feels serious about what’s going on, he thinks he doesn’t need to be so loose-lipped anymore.

 

_How can so much have already changed in less than two months?_

 

The answer to that question draws him in a little closer. “Thank you for not disclosing the details of my junk.”

 

He snort-giggles into Seunghyun’s chest. “You’re welcome.”

 

“I’m assuming this has happened before.”

 

“Yeah.” Jiyong reaches over to take his other hand, playing with his fingers. “I usually tell Felix everything.”

 

“Not anymore?” Seunghyun sounds genuinely curious.

 

“Well, considering you’re not just _some guy_ I went home with after a party, no,” he explains, sitting up to look Seunghyun in the eye. “Felix doesn’t get this.” Jiyong gestures back and forth to indicate _them_ and Seunghyun’s mouth slants upwards.

 

He pauses for a moment, letting himself be distracted by the lines and contours of Seunghyun’s face; the way he seems so quietly pleased by Jiyong’s conviction. But then he wilts a little bit, almost afraid to continue his thought.

 

“I mean, am I selfish for wanting to keep you all to myself while I can? It’s not like we have mountains of time.”

 

Seunghyun’s expression slips and Jiyong feels like a shit for bringing it up again. But he can’t help it, because he’s always thinking about it and trying not to. Adjusting his hold on Seunghyun, he laces their fingers together and sighs. “I dunno, is that-- is that childish of me? To want that.”

 

Seunghyun lifts his other hand to bring it to Jiyong’s cheek, pinching it gently, making him squirm.

 

“If it is, then we’re both children.”

 

Jiyong huffs. “You have a line for everything, don’t you.”

 

“Almost everything.”

 

He shoves at Seunghyun’s shoulder, a surprised laugh bursting out of him when he gets yanked forward, and then Seunghyun’s mouth is on his. Jiyong can feel the curve of his smile and it’s still there when he pulls back.

 

“Don’t worry so much about leaving,” Seunghyun says, tone gentle but eyes serious. “I’d like all of you here, not half here and half already gone.”

 

 _Ouch_. Jiyong winces, because that’s...super accurate, and denying it would be pointless. “I’m sorry.” He clenches Seunghyun’s fingers a little tighter. “I know. I just…” his words trail off and he looks away.

 

Everything about what he’s feeling right now seems pretty childish, the more he thinks about it, and Jiyong wonders if maybe he’s been trying too hard to be something that he isn’t yet. Because sometimes he forgets Seunghyun is 25 and sometimes it’s all he can see. But maybe this is where they differ most. Jiyong fighting against the things he can’t control and Seunghyun accepting them as they are. Or at least being _way_ more zen about it than he is.

 

Moving to grasp Seunghyun’s hand in both of his, Jiyong tilts his head, gaze lifting again. He breathes out another laugh, this one carrying more weight than the others. “I wish I could stop time.”

 

Which makes Seunghyun’s eyebrows do that thing where they lift and scrunch together and he ends up looking like an annoyingly cute puppy that Jiyong wants to snuggle forever. Seunghyun beats him to it, though, dragging Jiyong over until he’s tucked in nice and close, thighs firm around Seunghyun’s waist and knees wedged in between the couch cushions. He burrows into the curve of Seunghyun’s neck and inhales.

 

“Or is it just me who feels like the days go by too fast?” Jiyong mumbles softly.

 

“It’s not just you,” Seunghyun replies, one hand stroking along the length of his spine and the other easing into his hair.

 

He holds Seunghyun a bit tighter, relieved he isn’t alone in that. It’s hard not to think about how he won’t get to have this indefinitely, but he tries, closing his eyes and begging his brain to be quiet so he can just soak in the things Seunghyun is giving him right now. The comfort, the security...

 

Jiyong’s thoughts pause here. He swallows roughly, fingers pressing into Seunghyun’s back. He’d be lying if he said he couldn’t feel the love, too, and somehow that makes it even harder to be levelheaded.

 

“Where are we going, by the way?” Seunghyun speaks up after a while.

 

“Nowhere.” Jiyong laughs slightly. “I just wanted to get off the phone.”

 

Fingernails scratch against his scalp and he melts further into Seunghyun’s body; would probably be purring like a little motor if he was a cat and not a human. Hell, he might as well be at this point, and he doesn’t even feel shame when he hums and leans into it.

 

A chuckle rolls through Seunghyun and he starts to massage the spot just behind Jiyong’s ear. “We should though. Next time you have a day off.”

 

He stops himself short of groaning, whether out of frustration or ecstasy he doesn’t know.

 

“AKA never.”

 

“Do you really have to work so much?”

 

“Yes,” Jiyong sighs. Seunghyun’s petting continues and his words start to lose their shape as he floats closer to that weird limbo between sleeping and waking. “Still not enough,” he murmurs. “Should’ve gotten two jobs.”

 

“You’re crazy, you know that? I would’ve done anything to avoid being in debt after graduation.”

 

A second, heavier sigh bleeds from his lips and Jiyong feels the limbo cocoon lift away until he’s unpleasantly conscious. Sitting up slowly, he blinks down at Seunghyun and tries not to make any distressed faces as he explains exactly why he has a toothpick-sized stick shoved up his ass.

 

“But my parents aren’t the ones in school. I am. So why should that be their responsibility instead of mine?” Jiyong keeps his voice from rising, a small frown tugging at his mouth despite his efforts. “I mean, if I have no idea what I’m doing, why waste anyone’s money but my own?”

 

He watches Seunghyun’s adorably expressive eyebrows come together and then jump halfway up his forehead.

 

“I can’t really argue with that, actually.”

 

Jiyong nods. “Thank you.”

 

“So why are you even in school?” Seunghyun asks.

 

With a half-hearted shrug, he slides his hands out from around Seunghyun’s waist to pick at the stubs of his nails. Jiyong doesn’t have a legitimate answer for this.

 

“I dunno, it’s what I’m supposed to do, isn’t it?”

 

“Not necessarily.”

 

“College gives me a temporary purpose,” he argues. “Other than that, I don’t really have much going for me.”

 

When long fingers find their way into his and squeeze, he offers a ghost of a smile. The look on Seunghyun’s face tells Jiyong that he wants to comment on that, probably with something along the lines of how much he’s selling himself short, except he doesn’t want to hear it. Not even from him. So he’s quick to move on, squeezing Seunghyun’s hand in return and directing the conversation away from his own bullshit.

 

“What about you, why did you go?”

 

Seunghyun squints at him briefly, like he knows that Jiyong is deflecting, but doesn’t call him out on it. “To please my father,” he answers instead, attention migrating to Jiyong’s wrist as he plays with the loose threads of his bracelet. “I took the job with Alan to please myself.”

 

“And what does your dad think about that?” Jiyong asks, tentative despite being eager for more pieces of Seunghyun’s life, because this is sort of uncharted territory for them.

 

Though the way Seunghyun laughs and then sighs--both sounds edged in bitterness--immediately makes him regret prying.

 

“He hates it. I think the only reason he hasn’t ripped me a new one is because of my mom.”

 

“That’s...awful, I’m sorry.” He worries his bottom lip; wishes Seunghyun would look at him. “You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.”

 

Gaze finally lifting, Seunghyun shakes his head. “No need to be sorry. You know how it is.” He exhales another laugh and the smile on his face twists a bit wryly. “I’m not supposed to be fucking around with flowers, I’m supposed to be wearing suits and driving sports cars, running a company, starting a family.” His voice goes quiet. “Being a man.”

 

“But--”

 

“They know,” Seunghyun cuts him off and this time it’s his shoulders bunching up in a defeated shrug. “Doesn’t matter, though. Who’s in my bed isn’t what bothers him.”

 

Jiyong scowls and he can’t decide what pisses him off more, that Seunghyun’s dad believes in such a narrow definition of masculinity or that his close-mindedness prevents him from seeing how remarkable his son is. He opens his mouth, because he’s angry, but he doesn’t let himself say anything, and his teeth clack together when they shut immediately after. Seunghyun frames his face with both hands, thumb grazing back and forth over the firm line of his lips until it softens.

 

“Please don’t be mad,” Seunghyun murmurs. “Even if it’s kind of really cute that you are.”

 

Snorting, he thumps Seunghyun in the chest and tries not to grin. But he fails, and when Seunghyun chuckles this time, it’s lighter--sunnier and not as strained. It helps to calm him down, most of his irritation dissipating. Jiyong sighs and tips forward until their foreheads touch, fingers easing into the space between Seunghyun and the couch again to rub at his back.

 

“What about your mom?” he half-whispers.

 

“She’s happy as long as I’m happy.”

 

Jiyong pushes closer then, nosing along his cheek. “And are you happy?”

 

The instant he feels the way Seunghyun’s cheek bulges has his stomach fluttering and he giggles when the width of that smile presses tenderly against his mouth.

 

“Very much so,” Seunghyun replies, hands drifting lower to curl around Jiyong’s neck. “Are you?”

 

He leans away at that, just enough to meet Seunghyun’s gaze. Not out of hesitation, but because it feels important to let Seunghyun see that, despite his fear of leaving, he’s here. Present in the moment and not thinking about the future. It also feels like they’re saying something else, like admitting that they’re the reason for each other’s happiness might as well be a declaration, and as much as Jiyong doesn’t want to say those words out loud yet, he will say this.

 

Or blurt it, because the thought spills out of him like he’s surprised by its existence. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy before.”

 

Which makes Seunghyun laugh, drawing Jiyong in for another hug.

 

“Yeah,” Seunghyun mumbles against his shoulder with a contented sigh. “Let’s go with that.”

  
  
  


 

 

*

  
  


 

 

Over the next six days, Seunghyun somehow manages to cram a ludicrous amount of activities into Jiyong’s non-existent free time. It’s calculated, he knows. Because Seunghyun wants him to stop stressing out so much and enjoy the summer. To savor each moment as it comes. The nighttime car rides with no destination--windows down, music loud, balmy air caressing his skin when he lets his arm dangle out into space. The food adventures with Nora, full of greasy pizza and Chinese delivery and the harmony of their stoned giggling. Seunghyun even worked his voodoo witchcraft and convinced Jiyong to get up at dumb o’clock in the morning so they could go back to Franklin Park. And despite feeling like a zombie for most of it, the few hours spent laying in the grass--staring at clouds of all things--were some of best in his life.

 

Because it was easy to forget about everything else with Seunghyun’s hand in his. With his voice in Jiyong’s ears as he told stories about growing up. About his sister; his mom. The first time he traveled abroad, spending a few months in New Zealand one summer when he was in college, working on a farm. Jiyong didn’t talk much, but that was okay. He was more interested in listening--in living vicariously through Seunghyun’s experiences. He never wanted it to end.

 

But it did. And even though the days seem to speed by without a care in the world, Jiyong finds himself paying less and less attention to each and every second and more to what Seunghyun is offering him. Which, he realizes, is the point. And the frequency in which he has to stop and marvel at how crazy it is to be with someone like this reaches dizzying heights very, very quickly.

 

Letting out an exhausted sigh, Jiyong leans forward on the box office counter and stares out through the row of glass doors. It’s harder to remember how to be present when Seunghyun isn’t here. When all he has are his thoughts and the minutes crawling by on the computer screen. He kind of regrets volunteering to close on a Saturday night, but he needed the extra hours. Not that they’ll amount to much. Jiyong rubs at his eyes; tells himself not to follow that particular rabbit hole, because it doesn’t lead anywhere. Except his mind starts to wander and then finds a different one. A more terrifying one. He’s been trying not to acknowledge the fact that tomorrow is Sunday and that he finally told his mom they’d come over for dinner, but there it is. And it’s not even that big of a fucking deal, yet Jiyong’s gut twists whenever he imagines Seunghyun and his parents sitting at the same table engaging in small talk. Which is insane. He huffs, letting his head drop. Maybe it’s because Meeting the Parents feels too official and he doesn’t see the point when all of this has an expiration date. _An imaginary expiration date, you asshole_. God, Jiyong despises his brain.

 

He doesn’t know why he can’t just let himself be happy and stay happy. And he wasn’t lying when he told Seunghyun that he’s never felt it like this before. But for some reason, when he’s alone, that optimism seems impossible to hold onto. Like he’s always, _always_ , waiting for something to go wrong, because good things never last and Jiyong has never been that lucky.

 

There’s a tapping on the door, then, interrupting his super fun pity party, and he looks up to find his grinning boyfriend on the other side. Seunghyun starts making faces with his nose smushed flat against the glass and Jiyong’s heart beats a little faster as he laughs. _Wow, I’m stupid_.

 

Bolting from his chair, he jogs down the sloped lobby floor to let him in. “You’re early.”

 

“I know,” Seunghyun replies, still grinning as he steps through the door. “But I figured you were probably bored and could use the company.”

 

Jiyong chews on his lip to curb his smile. _So, so, so stupid_. He reaches for Seunghyun’s hand, weaving their fingers together, and thinks he must have some kind of bizarre sixth sense, because it’s like he always knows when Jiyong is having one of his pointless mental freakouts.

 

Seunghyun shifts his weight from one foot to the other, eyebrows drawn together in suspicion. “What?”

 

He laughs again and shakes his head.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Nuh-uh, you’re not pulling this shit again.”

 

Seunghyun pokes him in the stomach, making him laugh harder.

 

“What shit?” Jiyong demands, smacking his hand away when he goes for another jab.

 

“Looking at me like that and not telling me why,” Seunghyun explains.

 

He grabs onto Seunghyun’s other wrist to keep it at a reasonable distance from his soft, vulnerable center. Better to end the torture now before it escalates and someone hears them, even though he knows of at least five places in this building that are perfect for making out and he wouldn’t mind if it did. Jiyong’s mouth twitches, tugging into a grin as he thinks about doing exactly that and leans closer.

 

“And how am I looking at you, Seunghyun?”

 

“Like I’m…” Seunghyun pauses, clearing his throat. His cheeks start to color and he shrugs. “I dunno, like I’m made out of magic or something.”

 

Jiyong snorts loudly, watching Seunghyun’s blush deepen, enjoying the way he shyly ducks his head and laughs at himself. He drops one of Seunghyun’s wrists to reach up and brush the hair away from his face.

 

“You’re really fucking adorable when you’re embarrassed,” Jiyong chuckles.

 

“Only when I’m embarrassed?”

 

“Nice try.”

 

Seunghyun sighs. “It was worth a shot.”

 

With a roll of his eyes, Jiyong lets go of Seunghyun and lightly punches him in the arm before walking away. The low sound of rumbling amusement follows him, crawling under his skin as he moves behind the concessions counter to pour himself a drink from the soda fountain. When he turns, Seunghyun is hunched over the display case, smirking, and Jiyong mentally pats himself on the back for resisting the urge to make it disappear with his mouth.

 

“Do you want anything?” he asks, cocking his hip against the edge of the glass.

 

Music from the nearest theater booms and vibrates through the floor, joining the constant whir of the popcorn machine. Seunghyun shakes his head and Jiyong nods.

 

“You seemed kinda down earlier.”

 

He breathes out a slight laugh, rubbing at the condensation on his paper cup. _Of course you noticed that_. Jiyong looks up, offering him a slight twist of his lips.

 

“Not down, just,” he points at his head, “my brain being my brain.” Jiyong notes the concern in Seunghyun’s eyes and forces out another quiet huff. “Maybe I should ask for a new one.”

 

“You don’t need a new one,” Seunghyun chides, cracking a smile as he steals Jiyong’s free hand to play with it on the counter. “I like your brain just the way it is.”

 

“Defective?”

 

“Shut up.”

 

Seunghyun squeezes his fingers super tight and he yelps, ripping them away and then shoving them into Seunghyun’s laughing face. He tries not to grin, but it’s impossible, what with the grown man currently sprawled over the counter in front of him, snickering to himself like he thinks he’s hysterical. It would be easier if Jiyong didn’t agree.

 

Finishing the contents of his cup, he goes back to the soda fountain for more, watching Seunghyun stand up in his periphery and sigh through a fading chuckle.

 

“What were you freaking out about, anyway?”

 

“Tomorrow night,” Jiyong answers.

 

Seunghyun’s eyebrows jump up his forehead in disbelief. “Seriously?”

 

“Oh, come on.” He raises an eyebrow of his own. “You can’t tell me you’re not nervous about being interrogated by my parents.”

 

“I’m not,” Seunghyun insists.

 

With a scoff, Jiyong leans on the counter across from him, hands flat on the glass as he sways forward into Seunghyun’s space. “Liar,” he murmurs.

 

Another smile curls its way onto Seunghyun’s face. “I’m really not,” he repeats, meeting Jiyong halfway. “Besides, your parents are the opposite of scary.”

 

“You don’t know them like I do.”

 

The tips of their noses almost brush against one another, their fingers overlapping, and he fights the tremor of amusement in his stomach. Because talking about his parents while thinking about kissing his boyfriend is wrong on so many levels, but it’s not his fault that practically every conversation they have leads them here. Seunghyun just has very kissable lips. And Jiyong is very, very easy.

 

Tilting his head, Seunghyun makes things worse by flicking his eyes down to Jiyong’s mouth, the pad of his index finger sliding over the back of Jiyong’s hand.

 

“I think you’re just trying to fuck with me.”

 

“Maybe,” he laughs slightly, voice soft but teasing. “You won’t know until tomorrow, though, will you?”

 

Seunghyun stares at him for a number of seconds, smile never quite leaving his lips, and he reaches up between them to take hold of Jiyong’s tie, intent clear in the brightness of his gaze.

 

But the universe still has it out for him, and before either of them can make any further moves, the door to Theater 2 groans from down the hall as it opens--expelling loud music and louder people. Jiyong groans too, his tie slipping free of Seunghyun’s grip as he pushes off from the counter.

 

“Stop looking at me like I deserved that.”

 

His only answer is a cheeky, shit-eating grin, and he trudges away with a sigh to find the broom and dustpan he needs to brave popcorn-littered floors.

  
  
  
  
  


 

*

  
  
  
  


 

“All right, so maybe I’m a little nervous,” Seunghyun mutters, his fingers twitching at his sides while Jiyong adjusts his collar.

 

“I fucking knew it,” he says, triumphant and beaming. Seunghyun glares down at him and he snorts. “Sorry, should I pretend I’m not enjoying this?”

 

“You’re such a prick.”

 

Jiyong’s mouth falls open as he laughs, smoothing his hand over Seunghyun’s shirt to rest against his chest. He can feel the heavy thud of his heart and Jiyong regrets being smug, his smile weakening.

 

It’s a little weird that this is actually happening. That he’s finally going to experience the untold joys of having his parents embarrass him in front of his significant other. Because it’s a rite of passage, isn’t it? Another foray into adulthood. Jiyong wonders how many times Seunghyun has done this, but refrains from asking. This isn’t about other people, this is about them. Which is enough of a mindfuck on its own. Being a _unit_.

 

Jiyong sighs and presses closer, lips touching Seunghyun’s cheek as his hand travels lower along his stomach. “You know,” he begins quietly, “We still have half an hour.”

 

“What are you suggesting?” Seunghyun asks, leaning into him.

 

His hand glides over the leather belt circling Seunghyun’s waist and slips between them, his palm lightly putting pressure on Seunghyun’s cock through the material of his slacks.

 

“I’m not suggesting, I’m offering,” Jiyong murmurs, pleased when he draws out an uneven breath from Seunghyun’s mouth.

 

“Aren’t you nervous, too?”

 

“Yeah.” He nods, pulling back slightly, smile returning when Seunghyun sways off balance with the movement. Jiyong lifts his other hand to curl it around Seunghyun’s neck; feels the rapid flickering of his pulse here too. “But they’re my parents, I’m used to it.”

 

His palm pushes forward again and a faint moan fills the bedroom. Seunghyun’s eyes are hooded and beautiful as they peer at him in the almost-dark, evening creeping up on them as the sun sets. Yes, Jiyong is nervous. Yes, he kind of still feels like he’s living someone else’s life and not his own. But then Seunghyun’s lips curve slightly--chin tilting in search of a kiss and hand firm on Jiyong’s hip. That adoration melts into him through all points of contact, simmering at a low heat. Jiyong thinks about how much it’s going to suck when it’s no longer his.

 

He kisses Seunghyun softer than he wants to, tamping down on the strange ripple of emotions cartwheeling through him. Can Seunghyun tell that Jiyong is lost in his head again? The way long fingers squeeze and bring him closer says yes; the way sharp teeth nip at his mouth, calling him back.

 

Jiyong pulls away with a slight gasp. He rubs his fingers against the hairs at Seunghyun’s nape, nudging their noses together.

 

“Please. Let me,” he whispers.

 

Seunghyun releases a shaky breath and nods, dropping to sit on the mattress when Jiyong guides him in reverse. He kneels to unbuckle Seunghyun’s belt, popping the button on his pants, drawing the zipper down. Jiyong tugs at the hem of his white dress shirt, sliding it up Seunghyun’s torso as he eases him back to lie on the bed. Hands cover his and keep them there, pressed flat to Seunghyun’s sides, and he smiles.

 

“What?” Jiyong asks quietly, mouthing kisses along the golden plane of his stomach.

 

“I just--” Seunghyun’s breath hitches when Jiyong swipes his tongue over his hipbone. “--like feeling your hands on me.”

 

His brain stutters, teeth sinking into the warm flesh under his mouth in answer, making Seunghyun’s hips buck sharply. Hearing that is a new kind of intoxicating and it sends a jolt of arousal right through his gut, his hands fluttering along Seunghyun’s sides. Jiyong suddenly wants to touch him everywhere. Wants to listen to him moan, to feel him tremble. His fingers ease higher beneath Seunghyun’s shirt, rolling pebbled nipples under his thumbs, and Seunghyun gasps--this tiny, choked groan getting caught in his throat, and _god_ , Jiyong loves that sound. Loves every sound.

 

The original plan of just giving Seunghyun a blowjob to help him relax falls to pieces pretty quickly then, because now he feels all sorts of lit up, like he needs to _show_ Seunghyun exactly what he does to him. How it’s so effortless, the way he burrows under Jiyong’s skin like he lives there. It’s such an intense desire that he has to actively force himself to take his time. To let his actions speak as he kisses and bites a slow trail across Seunghyun’s belly, lips following the contours of his body--the definitions of his abdomen, his navel, the subtle ridge of his v-line. Jiyong teases at the edge of his underwear, raking his teeth over the elastic, and then licks gently at the head of his cock through the fabric.

 

“Fuck, Ji,” Seunghyun sighs, his hips rocking in a plea for friction.

 

Turned on beyond belief, he has to pause for a minute, exhaling roughly against Seunghyun’s stomach, pressing his face into the soft heat. His hands keep moving, though--caresses alternating between eager and exploratory--and Jiyong closes his eyes when Seunghyun threads his fingers into his hair.

 

More than anything, it’s the calm beating of his heart that makes him think that maybe he needed this too. Because despite all of his hang-ups and his self-doubt, being with Seunghyun is the easiest thing he’s ever done. And Jiyong wishes he had the courage to tell him with words. To make sure he understands that, regardless of what happens to them in the future, he’s so intensely grateful for this. For the here and now, for what he’s been gifted. The opportunity to know what it’s like to be wanted in a way that’s real.

 

Jiyong drags another lingering kiss over Seunghyun’s skin, fingers digging into the shallow dip of his waist.

 

The enormity of that realization hits him a lot harder than he expects it to, his heartbeat no longer so calm, and he wonders what it was that set him off--the intimacy or the importance of tonight. Maybe it would’ve happened anyway. Maybe this is exactly how he’s supposed to feel in this moment. Overwhelmed. Overjoyed. A little sad. And it really shouldn’t surprise him that the slight wobble of his hands when they press against Seunghyun’s ribs doesn’t go unnoticed.

 

“Hey,” Seunghyun coaxes, touch drifting to stroke his cheeks. “Hey, come here.”

 

He listens, letting himself be pulled up onto the bed, and before Seunghyun can even ask what’s wrong, Jiyong’s lips are on his, kissing him with a fierceness he didn’t know he was capable of. At first, Seunghyun just goes with it, moaning and winding his arms around Jiyong to keep him close. He whimpers in return, brows furrowed tight as he tries to navigate this. Tries to figure out how to reel himself back in, but it’s a challenge. The clutter of emotions too thick.

 

Jiyong can’t help but kiss him deeper, more persistent, all fire and no finesse. He slips his tongue into Seunghyun’s mouth, hands buried in the silk of his hair. It’s a lot like drowning, and he’s more than content to do so if it means Seunghyun will keep holding him like this. Like he feels what Jiyong feels and like he’s not crazy for losing his mind all over again.

 

But his control wavers and the instant Seunghyun grinds up against him, he has to break away, panting like he just ran a goddamned marathon.

 

“ _Jesus_. Where the hell did that come from?”

 

Seunghyun is grinning as hard as he’s breathing, so Jiyong knows he’s not upset, not that he thought he would be, but it’s still nice to see the evidence of his delight at Jiyong’s odd behavior.

 

“I don’t know, I--” He sucks in a lungful of air and laughs; wide-eyed, frantic. “I don’t know. I-I’m sorry.”

 

“Jiyong,” Seunghyun murmurs, cradling his head, concern shining through the mess of everything else. “It’s okay.”

 

Jiyong stares at him for a beat and then nods. He takes another breath to steady himself, eyes darting everywhere as his chest heaves.

 

“Are _you_ okay?”

 

“Yeah. I, um, I just got a little...caught up in the moment.”

 

Seunghyun raises a skeptical eyebrow. “The moment being a blowjob,” he drawls.

 

Huffing with more laughter, Jiyong swats at Seunghyun’s arm. “Fuck off.”

 

“Does this mean you think my dick is magic, too?”

 

Eyes widening further, he lets out a strained chuckle and rolls over onto the bed, hands covering his face.

 

“Seunghyun, I swear to god.”

 

“ _Kidding_ , I’m kidding, please don’t go,” Seunghyun blurts, lurching after him. He grabs onto Jiyong’s waist and tucks him into the curve of his body, refusing to let him escape. “Although I think we’re definitely gonna be late for dinner now,” he adds, mouth slanted in an amused smile as he props his head up in his hand.

 

Jiyong sighs and turns, pressing his forehead against the inside of Seunghyun’s arm. “It’s all right, they won’t mind.”

 

His eyelids slip shut and the pause in conversation extends into silence. But he can still sense the weight of Seunghyun’s curiosity and concern, especially when calloused fingertips begin to dance along his jawline and the swell of his cheek, easing their way into his hair. It’s incredibly satisfying, except for the fact that it doesn’t help him move any closer towards finding serenity. Because his heart won’t stop tripping over itself and Seunghyun’s scent is all around him--clean clothes and body wash and sweat and the faint traces of grass and earth that he can never quite get rid of. Jiyong noses against his arm and inhales.

 

“Are you really okay?” Seunghyun whispers.

 

“I’m fine,” he assures, opening his eyes and letting his lips split into a brief grin.

 

Jiyong gazes up at him for a long while. He said “I’m fine”, but what he meant to say was _I love you_. The sentiment clings to his throat though, unwilling to be spoken yet clamoring to be present. He can’t swallow it down and he’s pretty sure Seunghyun can see it in his eyes. Pretty sure, because Seunghyun’s eyes are glowing right back at him.

 

An anxious, giddy laugh hiccups out from the depths of Jiyong’s lungs and he welcomes the softness of Seunghyun’s mouth when he leans down. But it doesn’t take much for the soft to become more, Jiyong’s hands wandering until they slide into Seunghyun’s boxer briefs and wrap around his cock.

 

“Shit,” Seunghyun breathes, hips pushing into the contact. “Jiyong, you don--”

 

“No,” he cuts in. “No, I want to.”

 

Again, all Seunghyun can do is nod and then Jiyong surges forward, capturing his lips in a kiss that should be relatively convincing in regards to how bad he wants it.

 

Except this time, he doesn’t get carried away. Or not as carried away, Jiyong can’t really claim that he’s not feeling extraordinarily emotional right now, but his mind is clearer, and when he unbuttons Seunghyun’s dress shirt--peeling it away from his body in search of more skin--he focuses only on this.

 

Jiyong paints his body in kisses and doesn’t tease when he finally pulls his cock from his underwear, bringing him back to full hardness with even strokes. Seunghyun’s moans are quiet and a little husky and watching him lie there on the bed, this not-quite-smile toying at the edges of his mouth… It’s so fucking sexy and Jiyong has to remind himself that he has a purpose. That he can’t just sit and ogle. Even though that would be wonderful. Really, really wonderful.

 

“Come on,” Seunghyun urges with a slight laugh, his hips rocking, and he gasps when Jiyong pushes his thumb against his slit. “Please,” he begs.

 

It’s the _please_ and the neediness in Seunghyun’s voice that gets him, and Jiyong returns to his spot on the floor, grip firm on the base of Seunghyun’s cock as he brushes his lips over the head. As much as he knows he can’t draw this out, he still wants it to be good for Seunghyun. And it’s not like this is the last blowjob he’ll ever give him, but Jiyong happens to be rather skilled in this department, and he won’t rush. It’s never fun when he’s rushed, time constraints be damned.

 

“Nngh, f-fuck,” Seunghyun groans, hand already grasping Jiyong’s hair as he swirls his tongue and takes him deeper into his mouth.

 

He hums, sucking lightly, fingers twisting around the base while he bobs his head. Jiyong savors the weight of Seunghyun’s cock, the way it stretches his lips, the way it tastes, the solid heat of it on his tongue. He savors the noises Seunghyun makes; the way they sometimes catch and snag and spill forth half-formed. But most of all, he loves the way Seunghyun touches him--his hair, his face, his ears--like he has to find as many ways to connect as he can.

 

Hollowing his cheeks, he pulls off, reaching out to hold onto Seunghyun’s hips before ducking down again, taking all of him. Seunghyun’s loud response can’t really be classified as a word and Jiyong feels his chest swell with pride and affection, because it’s remarkably cute when Seunghyun loses his shit. Also remarkably hot, and Jiyong is seriously going to regret not giving himself a window to deal with his own hard-on after this is done.

 

“M’gonna--” Seunghyun gasps. “Fuck, I-I’m gonna come.”

 

Seunghyun tries to buck up against his hands, but Jiyong just pushes back even harder, doubling his efforts. He can feel how Seunghyun’s body tenses, how his grip tightens on his hair in encouragement.

 

With a final jerk of his hips, Seunghyun shudders, the tension bleeding out of him in a low, throaty moan as he reaches orgasm.

 

Jiyong swallows around him, laving his tongue over slick skin and sucking at the head before he lifts up and away, licking his lips. He grins.

 

“Relaxed?”

 

“Yeah.” Seunghyun nods drowsily, head lolling against the sheets. “That’s one way of putting it.”

 

Jiyong definitely isn’t sorry for feeling smug now.

 

“Good,” he laughs, carefully easing Seunghyun back into his boxer briefs and rising to stand. “Also, you should probably change before we go.”

 

Not that he isn’t enjoying the image of a rumpled, post-orgasmic Seunghyun--his hair disheveled, skin peppered in red marks, dress shirt wrinkled and falling off of his shoulder. The cherry on top is his dopey, gorgeous smile, and Jiyong thinks he deserves every award and accolade known to man for not telling his parents to go to hell, just so he can stay here and have sex all night with his smoking hot boyfriend.

 

Seunghyun groans and chuckles, curling up on his side while he scrubs at his face. “Just gimme a sec.”

 

He smirks, walking around the bed to sit beside him. Jiyong lifts a hand and cards it through Seunghyun’s hair, giving his thoughts free reign.

 

Which is a stupid thing to do in his current state, because he starts thinking about how August is literally next week. How that means he only has 33 days left before he has to get on a train that will take him to the other side of the fucking country and away from this. Away from Seunghyun and Nora and the things he never expected to give two shits about. Jiyong remembers, in high school, thinking that he could never be happy here, that--in all his starry-eyed, teenaged idealism--life only happened in other places. Places that weren’t the suburbs, where all dreams of something better went to die.

 

He realizes he was being dramatic. But when you’re 17 and itching for escape, you think you have all the answers, and no one can tell you otherwise. Jiyong doesn’t feel that way anymore, obviously, and he wonders why leaving and then coming back was all it took to make him see.

 

“Lost you again,” Seunghyun murmurs.

 

Jiyong blinks down at him; registers the hand resting on top of his own where it’s pressed to the sheets. “Sorry,” he replies, offering what he hopes is a convincing enough smile.

 

However, the look Seunghyun gives him in return is indecipherable, and when he sits up, he brushes his fingers over the side of Jiyong’s neck--brushes his lips over Jiyong’s cheek and brings them to his ear.

 

“Stay with me, okay?”

 

He breathes. They both breathe. Jiyong knows what Seunghyun meant, but he can’t imagine Seunghyun wasn’t aware of the other question laced with the first or that Jiyong wouldn’t notice. And when he nods, Seunghyun kisses his cheek again--a little harder, a little weirdly poignant--and then slides off the bed to go to his closet.

 

Listening to the intermittent scrape of hangers against metal, Jiyong sits there staring at his hands and wonders what it is that keeps holding him back.

  
  
  


 

 

*

  
  


 

 

When they’re finally standing outside of his parents’ house, Jiyong gets the unusual and ridiculous urge to knock before entering, like he doesn’t actually live there. Which, lately, has sort of been true, so he doesn’t feel _all_ that dumb for hesitating, but he does acknowledge the fact that he’s being pretty silly. It’s mostly because he’s still nervous. Still allowing his brain to project every possible way in which this night could go horribly awry. Clenching his fingers around the door handle, Jiyong takes in a shallow breath and looks at Seunghyun.

 

“Ready?” he asks, breaking into a grin after he gets an eye roll in return.

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Seunghyun laughs.

 

“Just checking.”

 

“Jiyong, open the door.”

 

“Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I have a secret door handle fetish. I mean, look at this thing.”

 

“Why are y--”

 

But Seunghyun’s question is cut off by said door swinging wide and taking Jiyong with it. He squeaks, tripping into the foyer and catching himself on his father’s cardigan-clad shoulders.

 

“Heyyy, dad,” Jiyong giggles, face pressed against his chest, because if he looks him in the eye he won’t be able to keep it together.

 

Young Hwan’s hands lift and come to rest on his arms as he lets out a bewildered chuckle.

 

“He’s not, uh...y’know...”

 

It’s directed at Seunghyun, but Jiyong groans before he can reply. “Oh my god, I did not get high before coming over here, what the hell is wrong with you?” he demands, leaning away to squint at his father.

 

“Sorry, kiddo,” Young Hwan laughs again, patting him on the cheek. His twinkling eyes dart back towards Seunghyun and he beams. “I’m assuming those aren’t for me.”

 

He’s referring to the large bouquet of flowers Seunghyun insisted on bringing as a way to butter up his mom. Okay, not _butter up_ , Seunghyun’s actually way too nice for that, but it’s more than just a gesture of kindness. Well-intentioned, as always, yes. But the fact that he made sure to include all her favorites says he’s not above trying to woo his way into her good graces.

 

Turning, Jiyong catches Seunghyun smiling a bit bashfully as he shrugs, and really, what mother in their right mind would ever be upset about their kid bringing home a guy like that?

 

“Are they here?” Soo Jin calls, as if on cue, and materializes from around the corner, still wearing her apron. The wide smile on her face slips when she sees the bouquet, palm flying up to lay over her heart. “ _Oh_ , you remembered,” she breathes, astonished.

 

Seunghyun’s cheeks immediately take on the same hue as the lilies in his arms. “I did, yes.”

 

“You sweet, sweet boy, come here this instant,” Soo Jin cries.

 

And said _sweet boy_ can barely make it more than a few steps before his mom is dragging him down into a tight hug. Jiyong just stands there next to his dad, pretending he doesn’t have an enormous lump in his throat. An enormous, annoyingly happy lump that won’t disappear even when he stares down at the floor and wonders why this feels so monumental. He hears Soo Jin smack a kiss soundly against Seunghyun’s cheek and he huffs, looking up at them.

 

“Mom, take it easy.”

 

But his mother ignores him, gathering the flowers to her chest and sighing. She’s so pleased it’s actually a little unsettling.

 

“They’re absolutely stunning, Seunghyun. Thank you.”

 

“It’s nothing, really.”

 

“Oh, hush.” She shakes her head, expression bright and giddy as she loops her other arm through Seunghyun’s and starts leading him into the house and away. “You know, I’m so glad you’re here, because I was out in the garden today and I think that short stone wall--you remember, off to the left?--needs some more color…”

 

He watches them go, Seunghyun tossing him a grin over his shoulder right before they vanish behind the wall. Young Hwan clears his throat noisily and it echoes in the foyer.

 

“So,” his dad begins, squeezing the back of Jiyong’s neck. “You’re aware of what this means, right?”

 

“Mhmm,” he replies, nodding. _My mom just adopted my boyfriend, kinda hard to miss_.

 

“And how does that make you feel?”

 

Jiyong raises his eyebrows helplessly. “Nauseous?”

 

Chuckling, Young Hwan gives him another gentle squeeze and pushes the front door shut. “I think I can fix that.”

 

Normally Jiyong is sort of hesitant when his parents offer him alcohol, which is pointless since they’re cool with him smoking pot, but he eagerly accepts the large glass of red wine his dad pours him, because unlike a certain someone, he didn’t get his dick sucked earlier to help take the edge off. And boy oh boy is he still on edge. Jiyong can’t even really pinpoint _why_ anymore. They’re here. Things are great. But that sense of wariness doesn’t leave him yet. Not completely.

 

Though contrary to what he thought was going to happen, there is no interrogation. There’s no prying, no sarcastic remarks at his expense. They don’t even bring up the topic of school, except to ask Seunghyun where he went and what he studied--Soo Jin delightfully surprised at his answer and firing off a million more questions in response. Jiyong’s just relieved not to be the center of attention for once and he finds himself letting his guard down, slouching against his seat, comfortable and full of deliciously awesome food.

 

Seunghyun never seems bothered by their inquisitiveness, either, always happy to indulge. He smiles a lot. Laughs even more, especially at his parents’ special brand of humor. Seunghyun also returns the favor in kind; asks them things about their lives that don’t sound like they’re being read from a Meet the Parents checklist, like he really cares about knowing who they are instead of just a pile of useless facts. It results in Jiyong being uncharacteristically quiet throughout the evening. Not because he feels like he has nothing to contribute, it’s just that watching his mom and dad interact with Seunghyun is fascinating in ways he definitely wasn’t expecting. Although that’s partly the wine’s fault. Jiyong always gets quiet when he’s not-quite-sober and not-quite-drunk. He’s content to be quiet, though, content to sit there and listen--cheeks warm not only from the alcohol, but from seeing his parents fall in love with Seunghyun, bit by bit.

 

After dinner, Jiyong and Seunghyun clear the table and bring all the dishes into the kitchen. His mom and dad, however, conveniently disappear into other rooms in the house, the opposite of subtle in their attempt to give them a moment alone. It’s kind of funny and a little embarrassing, but he’ll gladly take it. Besides, he’s been waiting for Seunghyun’s “I told you so” ever since his mom whisked him away to talk at great length about the garden. Jiyong kind of wants to tell her about all the plant babies. Maybe one day she’ll even get to meet them in person, and that thought expands in his intoxicated brain as he perches on the edge of the dining room table, leaving him warmer than before. He smiles, toying with one of his bracelets. _Let yourself be happy_.

 

“So, this time, when I ask you what you’re thinking...” Seunghyun starts, wandering back in from the kitchen, “You’re not allowed to say “nothing”.”

 

Jiyong’s mouth twitches wider and he swallows a laugh, trying to keep his face blank as Seunghyun moves to stand in front of him, hands curling around his arms.

 

“Only if you promise not to rub it in that I was wrong,” he counters.

 

“Damnit.”

 

“Tough choice, I know.”

 

Holding onto Seunghyun’s hips, Jiyong draws him closer, still smiling when Seunghyun’s hands lift, cupping his cheeks. He doesn’t even care if his parents walk in on them right now. He’s been dying to touch Seunghyun all night, every reassuring clench of his fingers or his thigh during dinner not nearly enough. So he loops his arms around Seunghyun’s waist and gathers him close.

 

“I promise not to rub it in,” Seunghyun replies, hugging him tighter. “Even though you literally had nothing to worry about.”

 

Jiyong scoffs. “So much for being a man of your word.”

 

“Will you tell me anyway?”

 

He can hear the amusement in his voice, eyes closing while Seunghyun pets his head. The warmth spreads through the rest of his body and he grins.

 

“I was thinking about your plant children.”

 

“My _what?_ ” Seunghyun chuckles.

 

“Have I seriously never told you this?” Jiyong asks, pulling back. Seunghyun quirks an expectant eyebrow. “God, it’s so stupid,” he mutters, hand pressed over his eyes, but he laughs.

 

“Well?”

 

Sighing, Jiyong drops his hand and peers up at Seunghyun as he explains.

 

“When I, um, when I went to your place for the first time and saw your mini jungle and how sweet you were to the plants, it was obvious that this was more than just a job to you. And it’s cheesy as hell, but you love them and they probably love you, so...plant children,” he finishes lamely, voice going soft because Seunghyun’s expression has him blushing harder than he already was.

 

“You’re gross, don’t do that,” Jiyong grumbles.

 

“ _I’m_ gross? Look who’s talking,” Seunghyun retorts and leans in, his smile brushing over Jiyong’s lips briefly.

 

He doesn’t understand how it’s possible for one little kiss to pack that much of a punch, and yet when Seunghyun withdraws, Jiyong feels like he can’t breathe. Eyelids heavy, he sways forward, his fingers gripping Seunghyun’s shirt.

 

“We should--” He swallows, mouth suddenly dry. “Dishes.”

 

Even though washing the dishes is the last thing on his mind, more interested in the way Seunghyun is smirking. Like he’s proud of himself for making Jiyong forget how to use complete sentences.

 

“I want to, but I can’t. Your father has requested my presence.”

 

This, however, this sobers him up in a flash and he straightens. “Really?”

 

“Yeah. He asked me to meet him in the living room when we were done clearing the table.” Seunghyun’s eyebrows raise as he nods. “It was super ominous. I think we might need to plan an escape route, just in case.”

 

Jiyong tsks and shoves him away, but Seunghyun catches him before he can leave the room.

 

“Hey, don’t glare at me,” Seunghyun murmurs, unable to keep the rumble of amusement from his voice. He presses another placating kiss to Jiyong’s temple. “It’ll be fine. Go help your mom, I’ll see you in a few.”

 

Reluctantly, he listens, letting Seunghyun’s hand slip from his shoulder when they part ways near the stairs.

 

But _a few_ turns into half an hour and despite dessert being ready, his dad and his boyfriend are still huddled together on the couch. Sometimes there’s a burst of laughter. Sometimes it’s so quiet Jiyong can’t even tell if they’re speaking. Though the TV’s on, which doesn’t help--an ESPN sportscaster recapping a football game or some shit--and he hovers near the kitchen entrance wringing a dish towel in his fingers.

 

He’s not nervous, exactly. It’s just that every time he checks on them, Young Hwan has this painfully earnest look on his face, and it’s killing his buzz.

 

“Honey, quit spying on your father,” Soo Jin scolds from where she’s standing at the island counter, garnishing dessert plates with fresh berries.

 

Jiyong absently waves a hand in the air. “Don’t distract me, I’m trying to read his lips.”

 

“That’s cheating.”

 

He slumps against the doorframe and releases a defeated breath.

 

“But they’ve been in there for fucking ever, what could they possibly be talking about that we’re not allowed to hear?”

 

Soo Jin shrugs. “Does it matter? Let them have their bonding moment.”

 

“ _Bonding moment?_ ” _Lord, I need more alcohol._

 

Stalking across the kitchen, he grabs the almost empty wine bottle and rips the cork out, taking a swig without using a glass. His mother grins and shakes her head.

 

“I’m sure Seunghyun will tell you everything later, anyway,” she teases.

 

Jiyong wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, a thin smile tugging at his own lips.

 

“Because you’re, like, best friends now, right?”

 

“Sweetpea, don’t be that way.” Soo Jin sets down the strawberry she was holding and turns to give him her full attention. She only holds his gaze for a beat, though, eyes dropping as she smooths her hands over the apron tied around her waist.

 

“I realize I wasn’t being fair to you before, and I apologize,” she begins, voice gentle but laced with genuine regret, which startles Jiyong, because he had no idea she was _this_ upset. “It’s just hard to accept that my baby isn’t a baby anymore.”

 

“ _Mom_.”

 

Soo Jin cracks another smile, reaching out to stroke his cheek and keep him from squirming away. “Don’t you “ _mom_ ” me,” she chides. “If you ever have kids, you’ll realize how strange it is to wake up one day and wonder where all that time went.”

 

Jiyong thinks he sort of already knows what that feels like and his shoulders sag a bit because he really needs to work on not being an asshole. “I get it. I’m sorry.”

 

Her smile twitches until she’s grinning again and she cards both hands into his hair, making him laugh.

 

“You didn’t say much tonight,” Soo Jin comments, easing away to finish her garnishes.

 

“I know.” Jiyong brings the wine bottle to his lips and takes a small drink. “I wasn’t the special guest, though.”

 

“He _is_ special, isn’t he?”

 

“Shut up,” he whines.

 

Except his mother doesn’t seem to mind much that she’s embarrassing the shit out of him, even if no one else is around to witness it.

 

“And I can tell how much he cares about you--”

 

“--please stop--”

 

“--I don’t even remember why I was so concerned that this was a bad idea, he’s such a nice kid. Well-spoken, too. And I _still_ cannot believe I never ran into him at the university, that’s so funny.”

 

She pauses to take a breath, never letting him get more than a couple syllables of protest in.

 

“The two of you should come over for dinner again next weekend.” Soo Jin laughs lightly. “Listen to me, talking about you like you’ve moved in together. I guess I’m just a little excited about the fact that you found someone _worthy_ enough to bring home to your parents,” she drawls, giving him a sly glance.

 

Jiyong feels like yelling and he sets the wine bottle down on the counter a bit more dramatically than he’d intended.

 

“Mom, seriously, it’s not--”

 

“No,” Soo Jin interrupts him, eyebrow arched and tone brooking zero arguments. Jiyong almost flinches at the sudden transition.

 

Abandoning the dishes of creme brulee, she slowly turns, facing him once more. Her expression is somehow hard and soft at the same time, hands coming to rest on his shoulders, and she studies him for a long moment before speaking.

 

“You think I don’t notice these things, but I do, and you have a habit of not being very kind to yourself. So don’t you dare go saying that this is nothing. That it’s destined to fail because you have to leave at the end of the summer and you can’t care too much. That it’s not “a big deal”. Love is a big deal! The biggest deal. And I want you to listen to me when I tell you: life is remarkably short and you deserve to experience as much of it as you can. Your father and I, Nora, that beautiful boy sitting in the next room… We love you because you’re worth loving and I don’t want you to ever forget that. Are we clear?”

 

Jiyong’s throat constricts tightly as he swallows and stares back at her, wide-eyed and speechless and overwhelmed. The sting of tears makes itself known and he ducks his head, huffing out a wheezy, strangled laugh. It’s not that he doesn’t want his mom to see him cry, it’s that looking at her right now is kind of a lot. And despite his efforts to hold it in, the jerking spasm of a sob twitches in his stomach, and he falls forward into her arms just like he always has.

 

“Oh, baby, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Soo Jin coos, stroking his back.

 

“How could I not cry, you awful person,” he mumbles wetly.

 

She chuckles at that, rocking him from side to side while he sniffles into her blouse. Jiyong hugs her more firmly and doesn’t let go, replaying her words over and over again in his head. He wants them to stick this time. Wants them to take root and grow until he believes them.

 

Jiyong thinks about all the ways other people have tried to tell him the same thing with their own words over the years and he just didn’t listen. Well, he’s listening now.

 

Disentangling himself, he scrubs at his damp, puffy face and attempts a smile for his mom--a real one pushing at his cheeks only when she musses his hair playfully and beams. Jiyong’s everything feels worn out all of a sudden and he sucks in a careful breath; releases it in a rush. Of course, this is when Seunghyun waltzes through the doorway, the pep in his step coming to an immediate halt.

 

“Sorry, should I…?” Seunghyun gestures behind him, unable to mask the troubled tilt of his mouth.

 

“No, it’s all right, sweetheart,” Soo Jin answers, leaning in to peck Jiyong on the forehead quickly and going back to the counter. “I’ll just take these out to the table. Join us whenever you’re ready.”

 

Tray of desserts in hand, she spares Jiyong a final, encouraging glance, then sweeps out of the room, her low heels clacking along the tiles. He doesn’t know what his mom expects, it’s not like he’s about to profess his _undying love_ to Seunghyun right here in their kitchen. Although it would be pretty fitting, given how they got here in the first place. Jiyong snorts out a laugh, which turns Seunghyun’s frown upside down, and he doesn’t hesitate as he walks the remaining distance to take his hand, the other giving his eyes one last wipe.

 

“What happened?” Seunghyun asks, both confused and entertained.

 

His lips twitch uncontrollably, head cocking to the side as he closes his eyes and scrunches up his face, half out of awkwardness and half because he feels sort of crazy. Maybe it’s just the wine.

 

“My mom got all intense and sappy on me,” Jiyong replies, voice a little rough around the edges from his sobfest.

 

Seunghyun’s fingers yank at his gently.

 

“Moms do that.”

 

He giggles, almost tired, and nods. “Yeah, they do.”

 

Smiling, Jiyong succumbs to the weird tumult of emotions swirling in his chest and lifts their clasped hands, brushing a kiss over Seunghyun’s knuckles. It’s not everything, but it’s something. He can save the rest for another time. Another time when he’s not partially drunk and emotionally compromised.

 

“Shall we?” he proposes, ignoring the meaningful look he’s being given, and pulls them both through the doorway.

 

Seunghyun follows without saying anything, but Jiyong knows they’ll most likely talk about this later once they’re back at Seunghyun’s apartment. He bites down on a grin as they sit with his parents in the dining room, grateful when his mom starts recounting one of the funnier stories from when she first became a teacher. Jiyong’s heard it often enough to the point of having it memorized, but he doesn’t groan or roll his eyes, he just listens. And he laughs. And he exists in the moment.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. just a heads up, dunno if i'll be able to update next week because i'm moving into a new house  
> 2\. mi cerdito means "my little piggy"


	6. Part 6

After the unexpected wake-up call from his mother, Jiyong gradually learns what it means to unclench. To really let the fuck go and be himself, not the version of himself he knows he’s been trying so hard to project, and it isn’t easy. It isn’t going to happen overnight. It’s not always _fun_. He thinks Seunghyun was probably the one who tapped the first few cracks in his stupid, useless facade and his mom cheerfully brought up the rear, all too willing to break through with a wrecking ball made entirely of feels.

 

Jiyong still hates her a little bit for that.

 

But it’s okay. He’s getting over it. In a manner of speaking, anyway. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate being emotionally bitch-slapped--because it was necessary, he acknowledges this--it’s just that now he feels like a huge mess. Like he’s almost starting from scratch.

 

Dipping a wooden spoon into the pan on Seunghyun’s stove, Jiyong scoops up a bit of curry sauce and blows on it, gingerly popping it into his mouth. He adds more salt and keeps stirring.

 

In the four days since dinner with his parents, Jiyong has discovered his preferred method of coping is cooking all the goddamn food all the goddamn time. Breakfast isn’t whatever they can find anymore, it’s omelettes and waffles and crepes. He made a huge tub of pasta yesterday before he left for work so Seunghyun would have something to eat when he got home that wasn’t frozen pizza. Today it’s chicken curry and he’s actually kind of pissed because he won’t be able to eat any of it until later. The only consolation is that Seunghyun will be happy and he gets to torture Nora and Felix by sending them lots and lots of pictures.

 

Though Jiyong _is_ beginning to wonder if receiving an inordinate amount of satisfaction from Seunghyun’s blissed out food-orgasm faces is something he should be worried about or not. He remembers, with absolute clarity, the way he’d moaned in ecstasy the other night after Jiyong had whipped up his version of kimchi fried rice and stares blankly at the wall for a good 30 seconds.

 

_Yeah...I’m gonna go with no._

 

Jiyong’s cheeks flush with heat and he scowls down at the simmering pan.

 

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Seunghyun rumbles from just behind him, arms sliding around Jiyong’s waist.

 

He jumps, startled, and then reaches around to pinch Seunghyun’s thigh because the fucker _knows_ he hates being snuck up on.

 

“You are, actually,” Jiyong informs him, attempting not to laugh as he gets squished tighter. “I was having a very--” But Seunghyun’s mouth finds the ticklish spot on the right side of his neck and he yelps, giggling. “A very...important…”

 

The lame response he’d formulated disappears from his mind, replaced instead with sparks of pleasure from the lazy kisses being dragged over his skin. Jiyong’s head lolls, a smile creeping onto his face. Although there’s a hand migrating towards the edge of his t-shirt and if he lets it continue on its journey, the food will be ruined and Jiyong will be very sad.

 

“Seunghyun,” he warns, more amused than upset.

 

“You don’t have to do this so much, y’know.” Seunghyun’s mouth makes a brief pass along his jaw before lifting away. “I think there’s still a year’s worth of pasta in the fridge.”

 

Jiyong huffs but doesn’t reply immediately, leaning over to take the bowl of sliced chicken he’d already partially sautéed in salt and pepper and curry powder, dumping it into the pan. The meat hisses in the sauce, Jiyong using the wooden spoon to poke at it.

 

“I’m not only doing it for you,” he mutters. “Just like, 85%.”

 

Seunghyun sighs. “That low, huh?”

 

“Listen, if you don’t want this chicken I can give it to Zach, I’m pretty sure he’ll be high enough to demolish most of-- mmpf!”

 

His idle threat gets swallowed by Seunghyun’s lips and he laughs quietly, not at all surprised that this was the chosen method of silencing him. Jiyong turns in Seunghyun’s hold so he can curl a hand into his hair and return the kiss, bare toes flexing against hard wood and body arching closer. He really wishes he didn’t have to leave so soon.

 

“No,” Seunghyun murmurs when he withdraws slightly, chuckling at Jiyong’s victorious smirk. “I want the chicken.”

 

“That’s what I thought.”

 

Fingers trailing down the length of Seunghyun’s neck, he starts moving back towards the stove, except it seems that his boyfriend isn’t done with him yet, lips quick to find his again. For a moment, Jiyong allows himself the distraction. That is until the sizzle of the curry reminds him that he was kind of in the middle of something.

 

“But if you don’t stop kissing me, no one will get the chicken,” he mumbles, grinning because Seunghyun has the decency to look mildly apologetic as well as smug.

 

Though whatever Seunghyun’s smartass retort was going to be dies on his tongue at the sound of a brisk knock on his door. They both pause, Jiyong frozen mid-step with the wooden spoon brandished in the air. He flicks one of his eyebrows up. “Expecting someone?”

 

Seunghyun shakes his head. “Not that I know of.”

 

Shrugging, he goes to shove the chicken around in the pan, adding the pile of cilantro he’d set aside.

 

“Maybe it’s Phyllis and her gigantic monster dog.”

 

Jiyong doesn’t need to turn around to know that he’s being given a dirty look. He stifles a laugh and hazards a glance over his shoulder. Seunghyun’s reply is cut off once again by another insistent knock.

 

“Don’t think you’re getting away with this.”

 

The laughter wins anyway. “I would never dream of it.”

 

Seunghyun hides his answering smile behind his hand and slips out of the kitchen, Jiyong listening to his footsteps and the squeak of the door opening. He’s just switching the burner off when a loud and distinctly feminine voice filters into the apartment.

 

“What up, loser?”

 

“Holy shit, what are you doing here?”

 

“Is that any way to greet your sister?”

 

“Sorry, I’m just…” Seunghyun trails off, a frustrated huff echoing in the front hallway. “Give me a heads up next time.”

 

“Why, do you have _company_?”

 

Jiyong’s been impersonating a statue ever since he realized it was Hye Yoon--the curry steaming in the pan untouched, an empty tupperware container clutched to his chest. His heart beats strangely, not sure if he should be nervous or excited or freaking the fuck out. She sounds...snarky and not at all like Jiyong imagined. The silence extends into an awkward pause and he chews at his lip.

 

“Yes,” Seunghyun responds eventually. Jiyong hears him clear his throat. “Are you drunk?”

 

“Maybe,” Hye Yoon shoots back.

 

“It’s before noon on a Thursday.”

 

“Don’t worry, I didn’t drive.”  

 

Unable to restrain his curiosity, Jiyong sets the container down and wanders out of the kitchen, leaning on the wall to stick his head around the corner. The movement catches Hye Yoon’s attention, her eyes shifting to stare at him. He can’t help but feel like he’s being judged, and it only gets worse when she scoffs and peers up at Seunghyun critically.

 

“Since when did you start babysitting?”

 

Seunghyun sighs, but he doesn’t comment, stumbling backwards when she pushes her way into the apartment and approaches Jiyong, looking a lot like an inebriated lion trying to stalk its prey. Her hand darts out to prod at his forehead and he shrinks back.

 

“How old are you, like fourteen?” Hye Yoon taunts, the smell of alcohol on her breath more than evident from this distance.

 

“Nineteen,” Jiyong corrects, frowning.

 

This makes her eyes light up and she barks out a sardonic laugh as she twirls around, fingers toying with some of the leaves on the hanging spider plant. “Baby bro, the cradle robber. Way to go, dad’ll _love_ that.”

 

“Would you--” Seunghyun growls and then stops, gaze narrowed while he watches Hye Yoon saunter deeper into the apartment, tossing her bag on the couch without a care in the world. He threads both hands through his hair and shuts the door, coming to stand in front of Jiyong. His eyebrows are doing that distressed, scrunchy puppydog thing and Jiyong welcomes the press of his palms over his cheeks. “I’m sorry, she’s not normally like this. Can you, um, can you give us a few minutes?”

 

He nods, offering a weak smile. “Yeah, of course.”

 

“Thank you,” Seunghyun whispers, brushing a kiss over the bridge of Jiyong’s nose.

 

The frown returns to his mouth when Seunghyun stalks off after his sister, dragging her to the kitchen, their voices melding together into harsh tones. Jiyong molds his back to the wall on the other side and tells himself not to eavesdrop, but he doesn’t think there’s a single place in this apartment where he’d be able to avoid them.

 

“Seriously, what the fuck is your problem? Have I ever gotten wasted and invaded your home and criticized you and your shitty boyfriends, who, quite frankly, definitely deserve to be criticized? No.”

 

“At least I’m not the one trawling my old college campus for some hot, twink ass.”

 

“Hye Yoon, you don’t know the first thing about Jiyong. You have no right to come here and say shit like that to my face. To his face,” Seunghyun snipes, voice harder than Jiyong has ever heard it.

 

“Does mom know?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And was she _thrilled_?”

 

“She said she wished she could meet him.”

 

“Aww, how sweet. Have you told dad?”

 

Seunghyun seems to hesitate and Jiyong crosses his arms over his chest, staring at nothing. Staring at blank space.

 

“I haven’t talked to him in a while. But mom said he didn’t have an aneurysm when she brought it up, so I figured he didn’t care.”

 

“Well isn’t that just fucking great. Good for you. Everyone loves the golden boy, woo freakin’ hoo,” Hye Yoon growls flatly.

 

“Everyone--” Seunghyun sighs again and groans, clearly very agitated. The floorboards creak as he starts to pace. “You know dad doesn’t think I’m the golden boy.”

 

Jiyong shouldn’t be listening to this. He shouldn’t, yet he can’t make himself leave his spot against the wall.

 

“Yeah, but you’re still not the family fuck up, so it’s close enough.” Hye Yoon mutters, words beginning to lose some of their edge.

 

“Is that why you’re being a huge bitch right now?”

 

“Sort of.” He hears her inhale and then exhale, voice a lot smaller when she speaks again. “I lost my job and Luke kicked me out. Feel free to laugh.”

 

“I’m not gonna laugh, Yoonie,” Seunghyun says calmly.

 

“Don’t call me that.”

 

“Why, because you won’t admit you secretly love it?”

 

“Seunghyun, why are you fucking around with a kid?” Hye Yoon dodges the question. Though this time she sounds genuine instead of spiteful.

 

“ _God_ , I’m not fucking around. And his age is irrelevant. He’s an adult. End of story.”

 

She scoffs. “Right, and the fact that you’re about to be one step closer to 30 doesn’t matter.”

 

“No. It doesn’t. Why are you so hung up on this?” Seunghyun demands, verging on completely exasperated.

 

“Because you’re supposed to be growing up, not screwing teenagers,” Hye Yoon counters, just as aggravated.

 

“A, you’re a hypocrite. And B, I thought you were on my side.”

 

This shuts Hye Yoon up temporarily and Jiyong decides he really doesn’t want to be here anymore. It’s not something he wants to get involved in, especially since he has no experience with sibling dynamics. In particular, Seunghyun’s dynamic with Hye Yoon.

 

He feels a little off balance as he pushes away from the wall, the whirlwind of their argument bouncing around inside his head, but he tries not to dwell on it. Jiyong rests a hand on the doorframe to the kitchen, hoping Hye Yoon won’t give him laser eyes for reminding her that he exists.

 

“Uh, Seunghyun…?”

 

Seunghyun spins at the sound of his voice, the anger etched on his face quickly melting.

 

“Shit, Jiyong, I’m really sorry, I--”

 

“No, it’s okay.” Jiyong shifts his weight from one foot to the other, all too aware of the way Hye Yoon is zeroed in on him. He doesn’t meet her gaze. “I, um, I think I should probably go.”

 

Shoulders drooping, Seunghyun walks out of the kitchen, bringing Jiyong with him into his bedroom and shutting the door behind them. When Seunghyun leans against it, he reaches out to take hold of his arm and squeeze. “You don’t have to,” he says quietly.

 

Jiyong’s mouth curves in a wry smile, because yes, he does, and he twists the hem of his shirt in his fingers.

 

“Yeah, I know, but you and Hye Yoon obviously need to talk and I think it would be better if I wasn’t here. My shift starts soon, anyway.”

 

Seunghyun’s hand drops, forehead creasing and then smoothing out.

 

“Okay.”

 

The thing Jiyong wants to say next feels worse than it actually is. Most likely because he doesn’t want it, even though it also feels like the right thing to do. He ducks his head.

 

“And I think that I shouldn’t stay here tonight.”

 

“What? No, Jiy--”

 

“No, Seunghyun,” Jiyong stops him, glancing up and away, biting his lip. “Be with your sister. I’ll go bother Nora or something.”

 

Seunghyun expels a huff of air through his nose. Jiyong sympathizes, and he would be more upset at himself for saying that if he didn’t think it was maybe kind of a good idea for them to spend time apart. More than the usual, at least. Not because of his looming departure date, he’s done using that as an excuse. But because they pretty much do live together and Jiyong knows that codependency is not something that should be included in their relationship goals.

 

Reaching for Jiyong again, Seunghyun tugs him closer, hands resting on his hips. “For the record, I’m not a fan of this idea. How am I supposed to sleep without you kicking me in the middle of the night?”

 

“I do not _kick_ you,” Jiyong sighs, jabbing him in the chest, and Seunghyun laughs.

 

“You totally do. I have the bruises to prove it.”

 

He offers a tight smile. “Wonderful. Your abusive, teenage, twink boyfriend.”

 

“Knock it off.” Seunghyun jostles him a little bit and Jiyong sways, collapsing into him, face pressed against his sternum. Long arms wrap around his shoulders and he lets the weight pin him down.

 

“There’s something you need to understand,” Seunghyun starts, breath ghosting over Jiyong’s ear as he speaks. “Hye Yoon is far from perfect on good days and today clearly isn’t one of her best. She’s frustrated, she’s heartbroken, she’s mad at herself. It doesn’t excuse the way she talked about you, but I don’t want you to leave thinking this is who she is. Or that she’ll never like you. Because right now she’s only seeing what she wants to see.”

 

 _Sounds familiar_. He nods his comprehension, nose rubbing against the cotton of Seunghyun’s shirt, but even hearing it spelled out for him doesn’t make him feel any less like shit.

 

“I’m assuming she’s going to be here for at least a few days and I hope that means we can give this another shot. Y’know, once she’s no longer drunk and aggressive,” Seunghyun quips and Jiyong snorts.

 

He doesn’t respond, though, not sure what Seunghyun wants him to say, because he highly doubts he’s going to become Super BFFs with Hye Yoon anytime soon. Or even acquaintances for that matter. But, he supposes, stranger things have happened.

 

“She doesn’t know you yet, but I’d like her to,” Seunghyun continues, hand sifting through Jiyong’s hair. “If you’re up for it, I mean. I would understand not wanting to deal with this.”

 

“As long as she doesn’t legitimately try to chomp my head off, we’re cool,” he mumbles.

 

Seunghyun chuckles, easing Jiyong back to look at him. But after a moment, his happy expression dims, and Jiyong really doesn’t enjoy being the reason for it.

 

“Will you call me later?” Seunghyun asks.

 

He nods again. “Yeah.”

 

Seunghyun’s hands travel up along the curve of his neck, thumbs grazing his jaw, touch so warm against his skin. Jiyong’s eyelids flutter shut and his fingers clench at Seunghyun’s waist in anticipation. Because it doesn’t matter that he knows what’s coming, an electric jolt still rips through his stomach when their lips meet.

 

Though this meeting of lips is nothing like the playful, distracting kisses from earlier. This feels serious--the kind of serious that would almost definitely lead to an intense round of fucking if Jiyong wasn’t about to walk out the door. He whimpers, fingertips digging into Seunghyun’s back when Seunghyun pushes forward, tongue slowly gliding against his. It’s too much, but he doesn’t want to stop. They _should_ stop. Jiyong knows they aren’t going to. Not with the way Seunghyun seems so committed to transforming him into a mess of noodly appendages.

 

Jiyong rocks against him, licking at his mouth, catching the fullness of his lip between his teeth; breath heavy, want heavier. Seunghyun responds with a near soundless moan and Jiyong kisses him harder, easily lost.

 

But despite Seunghyun’s hands gripping fistfuls of his hair, his mouth gentles and he pulls away and Jiyong is honestly dizzy enough that he doesn’t think he can open his eyes yet.

 

“That was one hell of a goodbye kiss,” he pants, humming in both amusement and pleasure when Seunghyun leans in again, lips soft and much sweeter and gone way too quickly.

 

He blinks, still really dazed, wondering what the fuck he did to deserve that. Seunghyun just gives him a tiny half-smile.

 

“It was a reminder.”

 

_A reminder? Reminder for wha--_

_Oh._

 

Jiyong blushes. _Right_.

 

“That’s not fair.”

 

“How is that not fair?” Seunghyun laughs.

 

“Because you started something you had no intention of finishing,” he grumbles, pressing his fingers into Seunghyun’s sides and making him laugh louder.

 

“Believe me, I would love nothing more than to finish it, but then you’ll be late. Very, very late. Extremely late. You would probably miss work altogether.”

 

Scowling, Jiyong pushes his face back into Seunghyun’s chest. “I hate my job.” _And I hate you for being so fucking responsible._

 

He releases a whiny groan, conflicted about which way he wants to feel the least--sad, annoyed, horny. But eventually he convinces himself to slide out of Seunghyun’s hold and goes to grab his backpack from where he’d tossed it on the floor. Jiyong hefts it onto his shoulder, standing at what he deems a reasonable, safe distance away to keep himself in check. Which is hilarious, that he even needs to do that.

 

“Don’t forget about the curry,” he says, feeling silly now on top of the rest.

 

Seunghyun smirks. “Yes, dear.”

 

Jiyong’s heart may or may not skip a beat or two at the epithet and he hides it by glaring at Seunghyun, something that isn’t easy when he’s still leaning on the door, all obnoxious and twinkly-eyed.

 

“I’ll kill you.”

 

Taking a few steps towards him, Seunghyun coils an arm around his neck, smacking the wettest, sloppiest kiss against his cheek.

 

“I’d like to see you try.”

 

“Ugh, you’re so gross!” Jiyong half-shouts, scrubbing at his face while trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

 

He lunges for the door handle, wrenching it open and scampering into the living room before Seunghyun can try anything else. Their peals of laughter fill the apartment, drawing the attention of Hye Yoon who’s hovering by the windows looking salty as hell. Jiyong sobers just as Seunghyun latches onto him.

 

For a moment, the air crackles with tension--Seunghyun and his sister exchanging telepathic words in silence while he watches--and Hye Yoon’s expression goes dark as she turns her back to them. Then he’s being herded into the front hallway, feet slipping into his shoes, and after one final, reassuring press of Seunghyun’s lips, Jiyong finds himself at the top of the stairs, alone.

 

 _It’s fine_ , he thinks. _Everything is fine_.

 

The cheery light of the sun when he gets outside hurts his eyes and he covers them with his hand. Rainbow after-images dance along the backs of his eyelids. He breathes.

 

 _Everything is going to be be fine_.

  
  
  
  


 

*

  
  
  


 

 _Hey, you wanna come over  
_ _to my parents’ house later?  
_ _I need to get high and eat lots  
_ _of junk food._

 

 _did u and ur hubby get  
_ _into a fight or smth?_

 

 _No, his sister showed up  
_ _out of nowhere._

 

 _hottie mcdimples has a sister  
_ _& u never told mE?!?!?!?!_

 

 _Chill dude. She’s like 28 and  
_ _kind of a huge mess._

_Also kind of a bitch._

 

_damnit_

_is she a fox tho?_

_I dunno, her general aura  
_ _of “I hate you” was kind of  
_ _distracting._

 

 _i feel like there’s smth ur  
_ _not telling me_

 

 _Come over later and I will.  
_ _I don’t wanna do this through  
_ _text._

 

 _want me 2 pick u up @  
_ _the theater?_

 

_Please <3_

 

_u got it, bb <3_

  
  


 

*

  
  
  


 

“So...lemme get this straight,” Nora sighs, hunched over his feet while she meticulously paints his toenails. “Hye Yoon got dumped, lost her job, drank a buncha booze, apparated to Seunghyun’s apartment, and took it all out on you.”

 

“Well, both of us.”

 

Jiyong lets his arms flop back over the edge of his bed, trying not to move too much even though there’s a restless itch crawling along his skin.

 

“She also called me a twink and insinuated that I was just Seunghyun’s fucktoy.”

 

Nora gasps, her head whipping up and dark curls bouncing. “She _is_ a bitch.”

 

He chuckles. “Partially, at least.” Jiyong doesn’t think it’s fair to write her off just yet. Despite that being exactly what she did to him.

 

“Please tell me Seunghyun valiantly defended your honor. Because if he didn’t, I’m gonna have to take him out,” she comments, her preoccupied tone at odds with her threat to kill his boyfriend.

 

A smile curls at the corners of Jiyong’s mouth, affection swelling in his chest.

 

“He was kind of scary, actually. I’ve never seen him get that mad before.”

 

Nora adjusts her hold on his foot as she applies more nail polish and hums. “I bet it was super hot.”

 

“Fuck off,” he mutters, chuckling despite himself.

 

Flinging an arm over his face, Jiyong absolutely doesn’t flush crimson at the thought of Seunghyun being angry and how that might translate into other activities. _Fuck my brain_. He’s not stoned enough to deal with this. He wants to be so high he can’t think. But Nora is still focused on turning his toenails into a psychedelic masterpiece and the bowl is across the room on his desk.

 

“How’d dinner go, by the way?” She asks and switches to his other foot. “You still haven’t said anything and I demand a report.”

 

 _Oh boy_. How is he supposed to summarize this? _It went so well that my parents are already thinking of Seunghyun as their son-in-law?_ Jiyong isn’t even exaggerating and he kind of wants to curl in on himself and hide in his pillows, except Nora would probably murder him for messing up her hard work. He flings his arm back over his head and exhales roughly, staring up at the ceiling. The quiet hum of the television bleeds through his door and he wonders if his dad fell asleep watching Law  & Order reruns again.

 

“My parents were surprisingly great,” Jiyong begins, extending his free leg to stretch it out. “Minus the part where my mom made me cry. And Seunghyun told me that my dad asked him how serious he was about dating me when they had their little Male Bonding moment.” He laughs, still amazed that this is life. “The answer was “very”.”

 

Nora goes stiff, her grip on his foot becoming weaker. “ _Dude_ ,” she breathes.

 

Jiyong lifts his head. “What?”

 

She’s got her Stoner Epiphany face on, which he can always recognize because she looks like she discovered the meaning of life. Or stumbled upon a mountain of cupcakes, but to Nora that’s pretty much the same thing.

 

Her smile grows and grows until she’s basically a human lightbulb and Jiyong honestly has no idea what’s about to come out of her mouth.

 

“He’s like…” Nora sighs again, eyes closing. “ _So_ fucking in love with you.”

 

He snorts and props himself up on his elbow. It’s really weird hearing someone else say that rather than just thinking it.

 

“I know,” Jiyong responds, quiet, though probably not quiet enough to mask how pleased he is.

 

Nora’s eyes fly open and she hits him hard on the thigh. “You know? You _know_? Fuck, I’m gonna barf glitter all over you,” she almost squeals. “Has he said it?”

 

Jiyong flashes her a smirk. “Not exactly. But neither have I.”

 

“Oh god,” Nora blurts, hand slapping against her own face, expression vaguely distressed. “Ohhhh, god.”

 

“Nora.”

 

“Jiyong!” she cries, staring at him in awe. “You love Seunghyun!” she cries again. Jiyong is actually concerned that she might be having a mental break.

 

“This is _real_ , oh my god I’m literally gonna puke I’m so happy.”

 

Carefully removing his still-wet foot from her lap, he sits up and sets aside the jar of nail polish, pulling her into a hug without saying a word. He’s not even surprised when she sniffles a little bit. Nora just clings tightly to his waist and starts laughing.

 

“Do you remember how we used to talk about this like it would never happen to us?” she asks. “I mean, really, _really_ happen to us. The assholes you’ve dated and the girls who never took me seriously don’t count.”

 

“Yeah, I remember,” Jiyong murmurs.

 

His throat constricts because he feels like Nora is going to wax sentimental at any moment and he doesn’t know if he can handle any more of that this week. This month. This year.

 

“And now you have a Seunghyun,” Nora speaks with a smile in her voice. “I want a Seunghyun, too. Just, y’know, with more boobs and less dangly bits.”

 

Jiyong almost chokes. “What the fuck, why would you put that image in my head?”

 

It’s probably going to leave a permanent scar on his psyche, but for some reason there’s still an uncontrollable tidal wave of amusement brewing inside of him and all it takes is one giggle-snort from Nora to set them both off--their bright cackling probably loud enough to wake up the whole fucking neighborhood.

 

 _Jesus, what is air_. Jiyong holds onto her for dear life, both of them shaking and gasping as they tip over onto the bed. They’re laughing so hard no sound is coming out, tears streaming from their eyes. He shoves Nora in the shoulder and they break down all over again.

 

“Ihateyou,” he wheezes, coughing into his pillows as he sucks a breath deep into his lungs.

 

Nora flops onto her back, still convulsing, but not as violently, and she’s wearing the biggest, most satisfied smile. As for Jiyong, his head feels like it’s stuffed with clouds. It doesn’t stop feeling that way even after he’s calmed, but then Nora turns, rolling over on her side and shifting closer and he gets that apprehensive flutter in his stomach.

 

“Hey, so, I need you to do something for me,” she says, smile briefly turning manic as her hand lands heavily on his arm. “Because I know you and I know what you’re like and I know your stupid self-sabotaging ways because you’re a fucking idiot but _please_ \--” Nora pauses to take a huge breath, a weight to her half-lidded gaze that prevents him from interrupting. “Please do yourself and everyone you know a massive fucking favor and do not, for the love of pizza, fuck this up. Seunghyun is like the greatest guy and he loves you and _I_ love you and this has so much potential to be the best thing that’s ever happened to you so I officially reject all other realities that don’t involve you fuckers getting married and adopting lots of cute, pudgy children.”

 

Jiyong scoffs, ignoring the warmth swelling behind his ribs. He doesn’t know what the hell has gotten into everyone.  Was there like, some _secret plan_ to teach him every important life lesson all at once? Is Felix next? Will he pop out from underneath Jiyong’s bed in the middle of the night and tell him he needs to start flossing more often? Because that’s how ridiculous this is getting.

 

“I don’t think you’ve had emotional diarrhea like this since we got drunk after prom and you told me I was your favorite ice cream flavor,” he murmurs wryly.

 

“You still are,” Nora insists, giggling. “Also I’m legit serious, diarrhea aside.”

 

He nods, giving her a faint smile. “I know you are.” Jiyong chews on his lip and exhales slowly. “But we’ve only been dating for a month, it’s kind of insane to hope for anything more than surviving the rest of the summer.”

 

“I dunno, Seunghyun seems like a long-distance runner to me.”

 

“Nothing in life is certain.”

 

“All right, _sunshine_ , let’s make a bet,” Nora declares, eyebrow arched dangerously. “If you jerks are still together a year from now, you have to go skinny dipping with me in the lake because you always bailed on me when we were in high school.”

 

Laughing, Jiyong slides a hand over his face. “Fine. And if we aren’t?”

 

“I’ll buy you ice cream for the rest of your life.”

 

“That seems unbalanced.”

 

Nora shrugs. “You’re worth it.”

 

“Ugh, stop.” Jiyong grimaces, pushing her away and climbing off of the bed. _No more feelings, thank you, I’ve had enough._

 

He grabs the bowl and the lighter from his desk, taking a hit and passing it to Nora after she finishes closing all the bottles of nail polish. It’s almost midnight and they should go to sleep. He also has to be at work earlier than normal tomorrow. Sitting in the chair, Jiyong stares at his feet, wiggling his vibrantly colored toes. He thinks about what Seunghyun will say when he sees them and his lips begin to twitch.

 

The worst part, Jiyong decides, is how easy it is to imagine a future with him in it.

 

“Nora?” he calls, absently spinning the threads of his bracelet around his wrist.

 

“Sup?”

 

Jiyong sighs. “It’s a deal.”

 

Both of her arms immediately fly into the air and she shrieks in excitement, pointing at him like she knows she’s already won. “You’re gonna get naked and wet and you’re gonna fucking like it.”

 

“Don’t hold your breath.”

 

But it’s clear that Nora thinks differently, given the way she keeps jamming around his room to the music playing only in her head as she gets ready for bed. While he’s brushing his teeth, he’s pretty sure he can hear her mumble-singing something about skinny dipping and how awesome it is and when he meets his own reflection in the mirror, Jiyong can’t help it, he cracks up and then tries not to cough out a lung after inhaling some of his peppermint flavored toothpaste.

 

“Dude, you’re not allowed to die until _after_ we get naked in a large body of water,” Nora calls.

 

 _Nngh, I seriously hate you so much_. Jiyong drops his toothbrush and has to use the counter to support himself because he’s laughing so hard he can’t even stand.

  


 

 

*

  
  


 

When Jiyong wakes up, it’s August.

 

The realization doesn’t really hit him until later, when he’s in the middle of cleaning up Theater Two--broom in hand and sticky floor under his feet. Zach and Jen are out front so no one’s there to see him slouch against the carpeted wall and jam a fingernail into his mouth. Jiyong told himself he’d stop freaking out, and he’s not, it’s just sort of depressing that they’re already in the final stretch and he needs a moment.

 

Tilting his head back, he stares at distant ceiling tiles and listens to the AC humming away--thinks about the more pressing issue of Seunghyun’s sister. Jiyong doesn’t want to dislike her, but he finds it difficult to muster any warm feelings towards Hye Yoon at the moment and he sighs, hoping (yet also dreading) that he’ll get the chance to talk to her today. That maybe he’ll get to see some of the Hye Yoon from Seunghyun’s stories and not the natural disaster he met 24 hours ago. Jiyong tries not to scowl as he grabs the broom and dustpan and walks into the lobby, blinking at the intense sunlight pouring in from outside. Both Jen and Zach are standing near the concessions counter, staring at the front doors and murmuring to each other quietly.

 

“What’s up?” Jiyong asks, cocking a hip against the other side of the display case.

 

“This chick has been pacing back and forth in front of the theater and chain-smoking for the last twenty minutes and we can’t figure out why,” Jen explains.

 

“I came up with a few theories, but Jen vetoed all of them.”

 

“Because all of your theories involved Death Eaters and Voldemort, you nerd.”

 

Zach scoffs and they start bickering, but Jiyong tunes it out to concentrate on the figure stalking left to right and back again on the sidewalk. Hye Yoon’s hair is up in a messy ponytail, one of her shoelaces untied, a few holes worn into the edge of her ratty t-shirt, thumb flicking the filter of her cigarette again and again. He isn’t sure what he’s feeling can be classified as shock, but he’s definitely some kind of surprised to see her here. And to see her so clearly anxious on top of it. Brows knotting, Jiyong abandons his coworkers and doesn’t really think about what he’s doing, just makes his way down the sloped floor to slip outside.

 

Hye Yoon’s head jerks up at the squeal of metal, the cigarette dropping from between her fingers almost instantly. She doesn’t speak, though something panicked flashes in her eyes, and Jiyong has no idea what to do with this new version of Hye Yoon. He almost wishes she was yelling at him, but he can’t pick up any traces of the angry woman from yesterday.

 

Inching forward, he lets the door groan shut behind him and folds his arms.

 

“Did Seunghyun send you?”

 

She shakes her head. “No. Well, he told me where to find you, but I came here on my own.”

 

“Okay.”

 

The air is thick with afternoon heat, Jiyong’s skin prickling under his work clothes, making him shift uncomfortably while he watches Hye Yoon fidget.

 

“I, um…” she begins, edging a bit closer and looking everywhere but his face as she clears her throat. “I wanted to apologize. For what happened and what I said, that was really, really not great at all.”

 

Hye Yoon speaks quickly--nervously--her hands flying until she wedges them into her armpits and frowns at the pavement.

 

“I was also wondering if you were maybe willing to meet me at the coffee shop across the street. So we can talk. I think talking would be good. If you don’t despise me already, I mean.”

 

She glances up, offering a pained but hopeful smile. Jiyong thinks it must have been pretty hard for her to do this.

 

“My shift isn’t over until eight-thirty,” he replies.

 

Bobbing her head, Hye Yoon hugs herself tighter. “That’s fine. I can wait, I’m used to waiting.”

 

He nods, too--doesn’t want to read into her self-deprecating tone because he’s bending but he’s not ready to let his defenses go entirely. The silence grows and Jiyong turns, eyes tracking the cars as they pass on the street in front of the theater. He can feel sweat sticking to his shirt and the wet slide of it where his arms overlap and right now he just wants to be back inside.

 

“All right,” Jiyong murmurs finally, turning to Hye Yoon just in time to catch the way her lips twitch.

 

Her dark eyes also crinkle briefly at the corners, the same way Seunghyun’s do when he smiles, and their striking resemblance hits him sort of unexpectedly. To the point where his heart trips when Hye Yoon’s expression falls a second later and she looks like a softer version of the dejected puppy he’s come to know so well. Jiyong suddenly wants to reach out and take her hand, her shoulder, anything, and tell her he’s not mad, but before the impulse kicks in she’s already walking backwards.

 

“I’ll see you later, then,” Hye Yoon says with a vague gesture of a wave.

 

Jiyong nods again, except she’s pretty much gone by the time he gets his body to cooperate. _Well, that was exciting_. He exhales roughly and his arms unfurl and he wonders if he should text Seunghyun to let him know what just happened. Part of him wants the reassurance and yet another part of him wants to see how this plays out. They’re all adults. He can handle whatever Hye Yoon wants to throw at him.

 

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Jiyong returns to the placid coolness of the theater lobby and totally doesn’t spend the next six hours biting his nails, not at all afraid of what awaits him at the end of the day.

  
  


 

 

*

  
  


 

 

It’s still muggy when Jiyong changes out of his uniform and waits on the curb to cross the street. Cars roll by and the road empties, but he doesn’t move, fingers gripping the strap of his backpack as he stares at the golden beacon of the cafe on the other side. Jiyong’s more worked up about this than he needs to be. More worked up than he was about dinner on Sunday night. At this rate he’ll probably drop dead before ever having the opportunity to meet Seunghyun’s parents. He lets out a humorless laugh.

 

_You’re not a coward. Don’t cave, just do, remember?_

 

Clenching his jaw, Jiyong looks both ways and launches off from the curb, walking straight to the coffee shop and ducking inside. The frigid AC is like a slap in the face and goosebumps ripple across his skin as he searches for Hye Yoon, spotting her at a small table towards the rear. She’s hunched over a book, chin in hand, two empty mugs and a coffee-stained napkin in front of her. Jiyong breathes in, reminding himself that this is Seunghyun’s sister--the same sister who taught Seunghyun how to ride a bike and stayed up late telling him stories about mermaids and pirates and buried treasure whenever he couldn’t sleep.

 

This last thought spurs him on, feet moving before he even realizes.

 

“Hi,” Jiyong greets.

 

Hye Yoon’s head lifts, but her expression remains blank. “Hi.”

 

His stomach churns and he smiles uneasily, biting his lip because he has nothing to go on when her face is a mask. Thankfully it breaks a second later after she blinks and her expression shifts, some of her apprehension from earlier bubbling to the surface as she returns the smile and shuts her book. Jiyong slides into the chair next to her and leaves his bag on the floor.

 

“Do you want coffee? It’s on me,” she asks, sounding like she’s about as ready for this conversation as Jiyong is.

 

“Are you sure you wanna waste money on me when you just lost your job?”

 

Hye Yoon snorts. “It’s my money, I can _waste_ it on whatever the hell I want.”

 

“Sorry,” Jiyong replies, smiling wider. Her eyes spark with amusement and he takes that as an excellent sign. “A latte works.”

 

With a nod, she sets her book on the table and gets up to order. Jiyong crosses his legs at the ankles and sinks into his chair, attempting to relax. There’s a pressure in his chest that feels like it might be optimism and he clings to it instead of giving in to the urge to gnaw on one of his fingernails. Which is incredibly difficult when his brain keeps trying to sabotage what little calm he’s managed to achieve. In the end, he lays his hands over his stomach and closes his eyes, losing sense of time until he hears a dull, ceramic thud on wood. Jiyong looks up to find Hye Yoon studying him.

 

“You don’t seem pissed at me,” she says after several beats.

 

He offers a hesitant shrug.

 

“Do you want me to be?”

 

“I guess not. Even though I deserve it.”

 

Reaching out for the large mug, Jiyong brings it to his lips and blows gently, watching her over the rim. Her brow puckers slightly as she stares down at her lap.

 

“I wasn’t pissed. I was sad,” he admits.

 

Hye Yoon’s responding laugh is hollow and she nods again. “That makes me feel so much better.”

 

She gives him another pained smile, palms rubbing continuously against her legs. He wants to take her hand again.

 

“Jiyong, I’m--” Hye Yoon pauses and sighs, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “I’m really sorry. I won’t pretend yesterday was an anomaly, but what I did was still awful.”

 

The way she can’t stop fidgeting--the way her remorse sits on the despondent curve of her shoulders--makes Jiyong ache a little bit, because it’s clear that this has been killing her. Honestly, what she said wasn’t even _that_ bad, and her agony over this is so telling that all lingering traces of animosity bleed right of out him when he takes his next breath.

 

“It’s okay.”

 

Hye Yoon’s eyes snap back to his. “How can you be so chill about this?” she asks, suspicion coloring her tone.

 

Jiyong grins and he sips at his latte.

 

“I think the fact that you sought me out when you didn’t have to says a lot.”

 

“But I did have to.”

 

“And that means more than an apology.”

 

She releases this little huff of disbelief, her lips quirking and her posture straightening like everything that Jiyong is confuses the shit out of her.

 

“You’re oddly mature for your age,” Hye Yoon murmurs.

 

He laughs in earnest now, setting his mug down. “I have my moments.”

 

“So you’re really not upset?” she checks one more time, eyebrows bunching and just as expressive as Seunghyun’s.

 

“No.” Jiyong smiles easily. His stomach isn’t churning anymore. “I _was_ hoping our first meeting would be a little different, but this is kind of par for the course. Nothing ever seems to happen normally.”

 

Hye Yoon smirks. “Normal is overrated.”

 

“I’m learning to appreciate that.”

 

Her smirk cracks wider into a grin and Jiyong notices the way her cheek dimples. It’s unsettling in a weird way, because not Seunghyun, but she’s grinning and he feels pretty great about that. Like maybe he was too quick in thinking they’d never be friends.

 

The stupid bouncy happiness in his chest expands, only to deflate a second later when Hye Yoon opens her mouth again.

 

“Y’know, my brother’s totally gone on you,” she comments, casual but not casual enough to hide the humor in her voice and Jiyong is instantly on the defensive.

 

“And I know what came out of my mouth yesterday, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing, I was just sort of thrown by how young you were. Seunghyun spent the better part of last night talking about you and I felt like such an asshole. Which he was doing on purpose.”

 

Hye Yoon tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear and sighs, gaze flickering between Jiyong and the table. He lifts his mug and takes a sizeable gulp, not sure he wants to know exactly how that conversation went. His cheeks heat, though. And to be fair, he was never really that good at ignoring his curiosity.

 

“What did he say?” Jiyong asks, shifting against the back of his chair. He’ll probably regret this.

 

“According to sibling code, I’m not allowed to give you details,” Hye Yoon replies, her amusement growing as she crosses her legs and plops her chin in her hand. “But it was all awesome, don’t worry. He thinks you’re the bees knees.”

 

Jiyong almost chokes on his coffee. It’s not shocking that being a huge tease runs in the family, it’s that the sharp glint in Hye Yoon’s eyes makes him think he shouldn’t be letting his guard down so soon.

 

She arches an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me this is a surprise. Seunghyun’s about as subtle as a cement block.”

 

“No, it’s not that, it’s just…” Jiyong coughs out a laugh at how right she is and fusses with his mug, sensing how the words suddenly want to spew forth from his mouth. “It’s overwhelming sometimes? Because he fucking came out of nowhere and now I have all these--” he sucks in a huge breath and continues on the exhale “--feelings and they’re mutual and when I think about it too hard it kind of makes me wanna die.”

 

When he finishes, he hazards a glance to his right, not anticipating the way Hye Yoon is regarding him. Jiyong clears his throat.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing.” She swipes at her lips, covering a smile and schooling her features. “Seunghyun mentioned you were going back to college at the end of the month.”

 

He nods. “Unfortunately, yeah.”

 

“I dropped out of college, my parents were super ecstatic, let me tell you,” Hye Yoon drawls.

 

“Why did you drop out?”

 

“It wasn’t for me.” She lifts one shoulder and tilts her head, gaze drifting off into space. “Some of us don’t fit the mold. Some of us don’t fit any mold. I’m starting to think I fall firmly into the second category.”

 

Yesterday, Jiyong never would’ve imagined finding a common thread with Hye Yoon. Or that it would be this, of all things. That it would resonate so much. He squints, then gives her a soft smile.

 

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”

 

They stare at each other for a long while and something clicks into place. Like they came to the same conclusion at the same time and decided that maybe they weren’t so different after all. Jiyong relaxes entirely and Hye Yoon’s responding smile is the warmest he’s ever seen it.

 

“Had a feeling you might,” she murmurs.

 

Jiyong laughs, the optimism in his chest spreading until it reaches his toes. He wants to hold onto it forever.

  
  


 

 

*

  


 

 

On his lunch break the next day, Jiyong decides to take a walk for lack of anything better to do.

 

And it’s strange, because a year isn’t really that long, but lately it’s as if he’s only just noticing certain things for the first time. Like the mural that was painted on the side of the old community center. Or the flashy banners hanging from most of the street lamps. He sees flower beds in places there weren’t--stained glass windows on an apartment above the bike shop, the vivid red awning over a bakery. Everything seems a little brighter. Different. Or maybe it’s just him that’s different.

 

Even the things he’s used to aren’t where they’re supposed to be. The hardware store that was on the corner of Fairview and Main is now a strange boutique for dogs. The pizza place that had impressively awful mozzarella sticks closed and moved one block over. A string of home furnishing stores popped up down the road from the theater and Jiyong is just deciding how completely fucking pointless they are when something in the window snags his attention.

 

He stops, taking a few steps in reverse until the ceramic planters come back into view.

 

Normally Jiyong would think nothing of it, but these pots are handcrafted and have legs. _Legs_. Like tiny, armless, plant receptacles that look like they might fall over if they actually tried to walk anywhere and it’s the cutest goddamned thing he’s ever seen. Which is new--thinking ceramic pots are anything other than...well, ceramic pots.

 

A slow grin crawls onto his face when he imagines them in Seunghyun’s apartment. Maybe perched on the windowsill or his work table in the living room. It’s quirky enough that Seunghyun would probably be all about it and the impulse to run inside and buy every single one of them tugs at his brain.

 

Except there’s the issue of payment.

 

Jiyong chews on his lip, resting his forehead against the glass. Can he spare the expense? _Nope_. Does he care? _Nnnnngh_.

 

Sighing, he peers at the sweet little armless planters and knows already that finding out how much they are is not going to make him happy. But what _is_ going to make him happy is the look on Seunghyun’s face when he sees them and Jiyong’s heart somersaults because yes, he’s actually about to spend way too much money on something he shouldn’t, just so he can watch his boyfriend’s eyes light up like gigantic, dopey stars.

 

_It’s obnoxious how much I love you, you know that?_

 

For a split second he wonders if doing this will be a mistake, but he shakes the thought away immediately. Seunghyun already turned his entire everything upside down merely by existing and repaying his kindness and his generosity and his affection isn’t something he can do with material objects. Though the intent behind it is a start. Because it’s not the pots themselves that matter, it’s the fact that Seunghyun will find joy in filling them with life and that’s worth more than a price tag.

 

So Jiyong goes inside the store and he gets two--one that’s sitting down with its legs splayed out and another meant to perch on the edge of a shelf, feet dangling in the air. He has them gift wrapped in dumb, patterned tissue paper, curbing the desire to roll his eyes when the woman behind the counter ties a bow around the bag handles. And most importantly, Jiyong hands her his debit card and doesn’t even look at the total, letting the final number float into his head and disappear. It’s not a big deal. It’s the most microscopic of deals. It’s _nothing_.

 

Jiyong walks back to the theater feeling like he’s having an out of body experience and wonders if this is what it means to finally move forward instead of being firmly rooted in place.

  
  


 

*

  


 

It’s pouring when he leaves work, rain pounding the pavement in one continuous stream, and he lingers under the marquee with the bag of tiny, armless plant receptacles clutched to his chest, debating whether or not to risk it. Seunghyun’s apartment isn’t that far, but even five seconds spent out in this shit is going to get him drenched. Jiyong sighs. _Why today?_

 

He supposes he’ll just have to suck it up.

 

Stuffing the bag under his shirt to protect it as much as possible, Jiyong abandons the dry for the wet and half-jogs, half-power walks his way down the street. Water soaks through his clothes instantly and he _can’t wait_ to look like a drowned rat standing on Seunghyun’s doorstep. He grins, though, a burst of excitement swooping through his stomach when he rounds the corner. Because he’s been thinking about this all day and now it’s happening and there’s a pretty good chance he’s more jazzed about this than Seunghyun will be.

 

Jiyong has to laugh when the rain falls harder. He sprints the last block, ducking in through the apartment building door just as someone else is ducking out. Leaning against the mailboxes, he lets out a rush of breath and shakes water from his hair, a puddle already forming at his feet. Feet that squelch loudly in the stairwell as he trudges all the way to the top and takes a second to collect himself before knocking on Seunghyun’s door.

 

The paper bag is a little crumpled and damp when he pulls it out, but it’s mostly intact, and he feels like an idiot--standing there dripping on the floor while he fixes the pale green ribbon. It’s not like Seunghyun is even going to notice if the ribbon is fucked up. Or that Jiyong chose tissue paper in Seunghyun’s favorite colors, because he’s ridiculous and sappy and thinks way too much. Releasing an anxious sigh, he forces himself to stop being a nutcase and taps his knuckles against the door three times.

 

Seunghyun materializes a moment later, expression shifting from puzzled to pleased to some combination of amused and sympathetic in a matter of seconds.

 

“Haven’t you ever heard of an umbrella?”

 

“Do I look like a meteorologist to you?” Jiyong shoots back.

 

Seunghyun’s laughter injects him with a surge of warmth, a warmer hand latching onto his arm and guiding him inside. The door shuts and he gently sets the ceramic planters down, bending to take his water-logged shoes off.

 

“What’s in the bag?” Seunghyun asks.

 

Jiyong smiles at his feet. “A surprise.”

 

“For me?”

 

Straightening, he peers up at him from underneath the fringe of his wet bangs, savoring the way Seunghyun nibbles on his lip and tries not to appear overly hopeful, but Jiyong heard it in his voice anyway--reads it in the slope of his eyebrows and the curl of his mouth.

 

“Maybe,” he answers. “If you’re good.”

 

Because Jiyong may be excited, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to enjoy this. Seunghyun’s entertained snort is remarkably satisfying.

 

“So I have to work for it.”

 

He huffs out a laugh, mind already filling with all the ways in which Seunghyun could _work_ for it, and ducks his head. His soaked clothes are dripping steadily onto the wooden floorboards, droplets winding down from his hair. Jiyong shifts on his feet and looks up again, wondering why it feels like it’s been more than two days since they last saw each other. Because there’s a weird combination of nerves and contentment sloshing around inside of him as Seunghyun stares back, and he breathes in, letting the familiar scent of the apartment settle in his lungs.

 

“How about this,” Jiyong begins, grimacing slightly when he unsticks his shirt from his body. “You can open it after I change into something less wet.”

 

Seunghyun hums, smirking. “And here I was, thinking of an excuse to undress you.”

 

“Does this mean you’re gonna hose me down every time you want me to get naked?” he asks, sparing Seunghyun a glance as he walks past him on his way to the bedroom, already peeling his shirt up and away.

 

“If you’re okay with being constantly drenched in water, then yes,” Seunghyun replies absently, moving towards one of his drawers to pull out clean clothes.

 

Jiyong’s mouth twitches into a grin, but he says nothing, popping the button on his jeans and lowering the zipper and shedding the heavy denim. His equally soggy boxers go next and he adds them to the pile on the floor. Crossing his arms, Jiyong shivers, watching Seunghyun fish a towel from the closet before setting everything on the bed, beckoning him with a finger.

 

“Over here.”

 

He shuffles closer, another grin breaking out onto his face when Seunghyun lifts the towel and starts to scrub his hair dry.

 

“There are easier ways to get into my pants, you know,” he mumbles, swaying in place.

 

Seunghyun chuckles, hands massaging deliciously at his scalp--his neck, his shoulders. It feels incredible in the most relaxing sort of way and yeah, Jiyong _might_ possibly be getting a little turned on, but how else is he supposed to react when those fingers are kneading into his muscles with so much care?

 

His head lolls forward and he can’t help but moan softly, eyes closed and that sense of contentment spreading until it’s a challenge to feel anything else. But then Seunghyun leaves the towel hanging from his shoulders and tilts his chin up and Jiyong meets his amused gaze with hooded lids.

 

“Maybe I just wanted to admire the view,” Seunghyun teases as he steps back and sinks down onto the bed, attention pointedly drifting from Jiyong’s face to trail lower along his body.

 

By the end of Seunghyun’s thorough perusal, Jiyong has worked himself up into an impressive flush and he scoffs unsteadily, smiling despite how completely fucking unfair that was.

 

“You think you’re so smooth,” he grumbles, towel in hand as he finishes drying off.

 

Seunghyun holds out the pair of flannel pants he’d set aside, pleased smirk never once leaving his lips.

 

“And you’re so into it.”

 

 _Asshole_.

 

A _correct_ asshole, but an asshole nonetheless. Jiyong squints at Seunghyun--realizes he probably looks constipated instead of threatening--and snatches the pants to put them on.

 

He’s offered a disgustingly soft gray t-shirt next, hyper aware of how Seunghyun’s focus keeps wandering, and Jiyong didn’t think it was possible to still feel this unbalanced. Which is hilarious. Because he knows in his gut that it’s never going to change and he honestly needs to accept just how fucked he really is. Especially when he yanks the shirt over his head and gets hit by the singular blend of Seunghyun mixed with laundry detergent, brain going all sorts of fuzzy.

 

Jiyong distracts himself by fussing with the fabric--hitching up flannel pants that hang too loose on his hips, trying to ignore the way Seunghyun is admiring him. Like seeing Jiyong in his clothes is some kind of revelation. He’s in the middle of fumbling with the drawstring on the pants when Seunghyun interrupts, reaching out to tug him closer and tie it in a bow.

 

“Thanks,” Jiyong laughs quietly.

 

Seunghyun smiles up at him, fingers curving around his waist. “No problem.”

 

He bites at his lip, gliding forward easily when he’s pulled closer still, knees pressing into the mattress as he settles his weight on Seunghyun’s lap. It’s such a simple thing. An unremarkable thing. And yet the moment those arms coil tighter--the moment Seunghyun seeks out the crook of his neck, breath seeping through his shirt--Jiyong’s mind flickers instantly with the thought of _home_ and his heart skips.

 

If anything, this is the revelation. It doesn’t matter that the time it took to get here seems so short, the certainty in the pit of his stomach is no less real.

 

Thumbs rub slow circles against his sides and Seunghyun nudges into him with his nose, inviting another grin. Jiyong wraps his arms around Seunghyun’s shoulders and takes a deep breath of his own.

 

“Is it stupid that I missed you?” he blurts.

 

“No,” Seunghyun replies, humor clear in his voice. “Why would that be stupid?”

 

“Two days isn’t really that long?”

 

Jiyong sighs and strokes his way up into Seunghyun’s hair, hesitating with his next thought, because he’s been avoiding actually talking about this like the fucking plague, but he can’t hide from it forever. Even though he wants to. _God, do I want to_.

 

Pulling gently at one of Seunghyun’s earlobes, Jiyong releases a laugh that sounds a touch too sad. “If I miss you after two days, I’m not gonna survive more than three months,” he almost whispers.

 

He feels Seunghyun inhale and then exhale, heat washing over his skin before the world tilts and they’re falling onto the bed. A brighter shade of laughter tumbles from his mouth when Seunghyun rolls and presses him into the blankets.

 

“I guess I’ll just have to come visit you, then,” Seunghyun murmurs, face mashed snugly against Jiyong’s cheek.

 

“Yeah?” he asks, throat suddenly tight. He’s daydreamed about this so often, finally hearing it is surreal.

 

Seunghyun nods. “Yeah.”

 

The wide spread of lips at his cheek makes him lightheaded, that sense of certainty echoed in Seunghyun’s tone, and another giddy flutter of excitement swells in his chest. It’s a goddamned miracle, honestly, that Jiyong’s heart hasn’t exploded yet.

 

 _Cause of death: Seunghyun Choi_.

 

He emits the dumbest, overjoyed giggle, embarrassed that he’s even capable of producing sounds like this, and Seunghyun lifts up on his elbows to look at him, curiosity evident in the arch of his brow. But Jiyong just brings a hand to his face in answer, following the slope of Seunghyun’s nose with the tip of his finger. When he moves on to his mouth, exploring its shape and texture, Seunghyun’s intense gaze has him flushing all over again.

 

“I missed you, too, by the way.”

 

Jiyong swallows audibly, the quiet admission felt as much as it was heard, fanning out against his fingers, and this time--this time he breaks first. Because there’s only so much he can fucking take when his insides are being liquefied.

 

Drawing Seunghyun down, he touches their lips together lightly, concentrating on every sensation as he gradually pushes forward for more. Like the ridge of Seunghyun’s jaw under his palms, the weight of his body when it curls into him, how their mouths fit--that wet slide after Jiyong parts his lips, inviting Seunghyun in.

 

This kiss is a different flavor from the last one they shared, despite the slow roll of his hips and the fact that Seunghyun’s hand has slipped beneath his shirt. The heat is different. Their intent is different. Jiyong wonders how many ways he can say ‘I love you’ before the words end up tattooed on his forehead where everyone can see them.

 

Seunghyun smiles as he pulls away, still caressing Jiyong’s side.

 

“And suddenly I find myself anticipating the way you’ll kiss me when it’s months instead of days.”

 

He snorts, a grin eating his face, and he scrunches his eyes shut to hide all the gross hearts he knows are living there.

 

“Shut up,” Jiyong whines through his laughter.

 

Seunghyun starts to talk again, but he’s quick to stop him, covering his mouth.

 

“No.”

 

A muffled noise of protest; thick eyebrows raising in a silent plea.

 

Jiyong shakes his head. “No more talking.”

 

Those eyebrows droop along with broad shoulders and he chuckles, pleased when Seunghyun doesn’t fight it and collapses on top of him with a grunt. Not that he doesn’t like it when Seunghyun is a sappy jerk, he just needs a second to let his brain digest the reality of how awesome his life is right now. Right here. Because Jiyong has a lot to be thankful for and he should remind himself as often as possible.

 

Snuggling into him, Seunghyun sighs, and even that sounds happy. He grins up at the ceiling, petting his head while a comfortable sort of quiet hovers in the bedroom. Almost like time suspended. Jiyong likes the way it feels, except something seems to be missing.

 

“Where’s Hye Yoon?” he asks.

 

“Dunno. Out,” Seunghyun mumbles. “She’ll be back.”

 

Lazily, Jiyong scratches aimless paths along Seunghyun’s scalp, chewing on his lip when he gets a gravelly hum of appreciation.

 

“Don’t you want to open your surprise?”

 

Seunghyun happy-sighs again, arm wedging itself further under Jiyong’s body. “In a minute.”

 

His responding laugh is near silent and he lets himself go totally boneless against the mattress, all too willing to play teddy bear if it means Seunghyun will keep making soft, adorable human noises.

  


 

 

*

  


 

 

A pronounced groan startles Jiyong back to consciousness, the warm lump next to him shifting and stretching.

 

“Fuck,” Seunghyun mumbles, “Did we seriously fall asleep?”

 

He unglues his eyelids and stares into the darkness of the bedroom, limbs feeling like deadweights.

 

“Yes?” he croaks.

 

“God, it’s like 3AM,” Seunghyun giggles tiredly.

 

Jiyong is so disoriented he can’t even remember what day it is and when Seunghyun moves to get up, he whines, rolling on top of him. “Nooo, no moving.”

 

Groggy laughter rumbles beneath him and he worms closer, the siren song of sleep already calling him back, aided by the fingers combing through his hair. He doesn’t even care that his sleep schedule is probably fucked now, he just wants to stay like this for eternity. But, of course, he can’t.

 

“I have to take a leak, Jiyong,” Seunghyun murmurs, chuckling as he presses a kiss into his forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

 

Sighing, Jiyong flops onto his back and winces, the light from the bedside lamp when Seunghyun flicks it on bursting his hazy bubble. _Ugh_. He feels like roadkill. Aren’t naps supposed to be helpful? Though perhaps “nap” is being generous, because it was more like a nine hour coma, and Jiyong is certainly no stranger to those.

 

The sounds of Seunghyun padding cautiously around the apartment tell him Hye Yoon is asleep on the couch. He wonders if she got caught in the rain; can still hear it pattering against the windows. Jiyong lets his eyes fall shut as he listens.

 

“Miss me again?”

 

There’s a tug on his big toe and Jiyong kicks his leg out, hitting Seunghyun in what he thinks is the stomach, judging by his ‘ _oof_ ’ of surprise.

 

“No. Go away.”

 

“Mmmm, so many lies.”

 

Seunghyun digs his fingers into the dip of Jiyong’s waist and he nearly shrieks, quick to slap his hand over his mouth. The other he uses to defend himself as he fights the cackles growing in his lungs.

 

“You fucker,” Jiyong gasps, shoving at Seunghyun’s stupid, grinning face. “We’re gonna wake your sister up.”

 

“Her problem, not mine,” Seunghyun laughs against his palm.

 

But the tickling ends a moment later, Seunghyun plopping down on the bed with the present in his lap and the most self-satisfied expression on his face. Jiyong rolls his eyes.

 

“Weirdo,” he mutters, scootching towards the edge of the mattress and folding his legs.

 

He smiles, though, because Seunghyun is already yanking at the pale green bow tied around the handles like an eager child, taking out one of the tissue wrapped planters with barely concealed glee. A nervous flutter swells in Jiyong’s chest and he can’t decide if he wants to watch or turn away, but then the paper tears and--

 

“Oh my god,” Seunghyun breathes, peeling away the rest of the wrapping and balancing the planter in his hand, its little ceramic legs sticking out into the air.

 

Jiyong bites his lip, picking anxiously at too-short fingernails. “Is that a good ‘oh my god’?” he asks, hesitant.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Seunghyun levels him with a look of disbelief, this awed sort of grin blooming wider with every passing second.

 

Shaking his head like Jiyong is the world’s biggest moron, Seunghyun gently returns the first planter to the bag and unwraps the second one, hiccuping out a laugh that sounds a bit strained, and then packing that one away too. In silence, the bag is set on the floor, Seunghyun’s face difficult to read as he stares down at his hands.

 

“Seunghyun?” Jiyong starts to frown, not sure what to make of his mixed reaction. “I--”

 

“Shut up,” Seunghyun cuts him off immediately and he twists around, fingers molding to his cheeks and mouth crashing against his lips.

 

His muffled squeak of shock has Seunghyun laughing again and honestly, Jiyong is so confused right now, he doesn’t know what to do except let himself be kissed into oblivion. Which isn’t exactly a hardship, but he’s still worried that he somehow managed to fuck this up.

 

“Hey, weirdo,” Jiyong chuckles, easing back to look his crazy ass boyfriend in the eye. “Wanna tell me what’s going on? My psychic powers are on the fritz.”

 

Seunghyun’s eyes seem shinier than usual, a sharp jolt of alarm lancing through his heart when he realizes why, and his eyebrows slam together. _Did I seriously fucking make you cry?_ Jiyong reaches up, fingers sinking into Seunghyun’s hair, at a loss.

 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Seunghyun whispers.

 

“I wanted to.”

 

“I know.” Seunghyun’s mouth tilts wryly. “That’s why I freaked out.”

 

He snorts and lets his hand slide down over the curve of Seunghyun’s neck. “You’d think no one had ever given you a gift before.”

 

“Fuck off,” Seunghyun mutters, nudging his nose into Jiyong’s. “This is different.”

 

“Is it?” he asks.

 

“Don’t play dumb.”

 

The humor in Seunghyun’s tone belies the seriousness of his eyes and Jiyong senses a tightness in his throat, knowing all too well what that tightness is and what he’s about to say. It’s probably redundant at this point, but nothing has ever felt quite so meaningful before, and he makes himself look, holding Seunghyun’s gaze as he inhales.

 

Jiyong flashes him a brief smile, fingers clenching at the collar of Seunghyun’s t-shirt.

 

“I love you.”

 

He holds his breath in the beat that follows, kind of amazed that he had the balls to actually say it. Amazed that it’s out there in the world now and he can’t take it back and he doesn’t ever want to. Jiyong’s exhale is shaky as a motherfucker, dizzy laughter shuddering its way out of his mouth.

 

Seunghyun beams back at him. “Right now, pretty sure I love you more.”

 

“Didn’t realize this was a contest,” Jiyong replies, feeling his chest rise and fall with every delighted breath. “In that case I love you times infinity plus one.”

 

“Overachiever.”

 

“Nerd.”

 

“Ooh, sweet comeback,” Seunghyun teases.

 

Jiyong doesn’t even bother responding to that, narrowing his eyes and surging forward to tackle him onto the bed. He happily devours Seunghyun’s giggles, lips aiming to map out every inch of his face, fingers seeking longer ones and locking them together. There are no accurate words to describe the way he feels--simultaneously solid and non-existent, conscious and yet floating somewhere that can’t be real, but is. Because Seunghyun is everywhere and really, Jiyong should’ve known that his heart was going to end up splattered all over the inside of his fucking ribs.

 

 


	7. Part 7

It’s amazing how three simple words have the power to change the world as Jiyong thought he knew it. Not in a big, obvious way, but in countless smaller and more meaningful ways. Ways in which Jiyong has to really pay attention or he’ll miss it. Because until now, he was so certain he understood what love was, that he’d felt it before and that’s all there was to it. Call it naive, call it whatever you want. He’s just thrilled to be wrong. Or at least enlightened. And it’s not even that anything has actually changed, it’s just...a feeling. A shift in energy. Like a clearer lens has been placed over his eyes and suddenly he can make out the tiniest details, both good and bad.

 

Jiyong finally _gets_ all that sentimental, poetic crap, too. The walking on clouds, the sense of being indestructible, the goddamned _rainbows_. Half the time he expects all the squirrels outside of Seunghyun’s bedroom window to break into song, because he’s apparently a Disney princess now and Felix was fucking right.

 

Although, if he recalls correctly, no Disney film has ever included a shower scene. Jiyong would probably like them a lot more if they did.

 

“This is weird,” Seunghyun announces, smile evident in his tone.

 

He laughs.

 

“It’s not weird.”

 

“But I can’t see anything.”

 

Jiyong reaches through the darkness, feeling his way along Seunghyun’s arms to grip his wrists and wave them around in the air. “That’s what your hands are for, dumbass.”

 

Wet fingers land on his face, squishing his cheeks and his nose, and he giggles, swatting them away.

 

“Why do you like this so much, anyway?” Seunghyun asks.

 

“Because it’s relaxing.” He leans forward. “And fun with company,” Jiyong adds quietly, dragging a kiss across dampened skin, making Seunghyun jump.

 

Seunghyun’s breath hitches, the tips of Jiyong’s fingers skating up along his stomach. He mouths at a prominent collarbone and follows it to the smooth contour of his shoulder, touch drifting back down, delicately tracing the curve of his waist. In the dark, every reaction seems amplified--every uneven inhalation, every muscle twitch, how Seunghyun almost seems to burn hotter under the already humid spray. Jiyong grins, moving to kiss the center of Seunghyun’s chest and then the side of his neck, fingers roaming to the tops of his thighs, teasing.

 

“I think I’m beginning to understand now,” Seunghyun mumbles.

 

“M _hmm_.”

 

He finds warm lips and shivers when his back connects with the cold tiles, palms molding to Seunghyun’s ass and pulling him in. Jiyong moans; they both laugh. But then a heavy banging on the door destroys the moment and Hye Yoon’s muffled voice filters into the bathroom.

 

“You guys are taking forever. Either get off or get out, we’re already late.”

 

Jiyong laughs harder.

 

“Thank you, dear sister,” Seunghyun replies loudly, his amusement echoing in the small space.

 

“Anytime,” Hye Yoon calls.

 

Groaning into Seunghyun’s neck, he coils his arms tighter and sighs. “She’s leaving tomorrow, right?”

 

“Jiyong.”

 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Jiyong insists. “I just miss being loud.”

 

Seunghyun chuckles and holds him closer despite Hye Yoon’s warning. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it, too,” he admits, voice low.

 

Honestly, Jiyong didn’t think he was _that_ much of an insatiable, horny teenager until she showed up, effectively cockblocking them from their usual activities. And now that it’s been five days without much of anything, he feels like his dick is going to fall off if he doesn’t start using it again. _But not tonight._ He swallows another groan.

 

“I guess the sooner we leave, the sooner I can start kicking your ass.”

 

Jiyong gives Seunghyun’s butt a good squeeze in emphasis, earning himself a soft gasp.

 

“I’m starting to think you have a problem,” Seunghyun muses.

 

Using both hands, he give it another squeeze, caught somewhere between entertained and aroused. “I can’t help it, I’m going through withdrawals.”

 

“So you’re addicted to my ass?”

 

It sounds like Seunghyun is about to start cracking up. Jiyong’s mouth spreads wide. “How could I not be?” he counters. “Have you seen your ass?”

 

Bright laughter fills the bathroom and he wishes it wasn’t so dark--wishes he could see the smile lines and those annoyingly cute dimples.

 

“Not recently, no,” Seunghyun huffs.

 

“That’s a shame.” Jiyong begins to knead gently with his fingers. “It’s a really nice ass.”

 

More deep laughter rumbles through him, Seunghyun’s hips rocking forward and pinning him to the wall. Their cocks are caught between their bodies, half-hard, and he’s pretty sure it wouldn’t take that much for either of them to come in the next five minutes. Jiyong lifts up onto his toes, creating a little friction. He hums, pleased when Seunghyun rolls his hips again and inelegantly searches for Jiyong’s mouth, lips mapping a third of his face before he gets there.

 

“You know what’s gonna happen if you don’t stop, right?”

 

He releases a strained breath, applying pressure, his fingertips dipping into the cleft of Seunghyun’s asscheeks.

 

“I don’t wanna stop,” Jiyong sighs against his mouth.

 

Seunghyun bucks at the new sensation and moans a bit loudly, hands burying themselves in Jiyong’s hair. _God, yes._ His cock throbs and the tension builds.

 

“Then I’m blaming you--” Seunghyun pauses, words interrupted by another throaty moan, “--for everything.”

 

Jiyong laughs, breathless. “I think I can live with that,” he mumbles.

 

Because while the collective wrath of Hye Yoon and Nora may be terrifying, this is currently more important. So important. It’s not even about the orgasm, it’s just about stealing a moment alone with his boyfriend because he wants to. And okay, also because he’s a total horndog, but he swears that wasn’t the objective when he suggested they shower together to save time. Really.

 

A grin works its way onto Jiyong’s face when Seunghyun grabs hold of his leg and hooks it around his waist, hands relinquishing their hold to press into the muscles of Seunghyun’s back, feeling them bunch and shift under his skin. He angles away from the wall, meeting every roll of those hips with one of his own. The wet slide of their skin is amazing and he makes all sorts of happy noises when a hot mouth latches onto his neck, painting it with sloppy, smiley kisses.

 

“I wish I could fuck you right now,” Seunghyun mutters against his jaw.

 

 _Jesus._ Jiyong shivers, grinding into him faster, losing rhythm. “Yeah,” he gasps. “Why...why did we decide to go to the arcade again?”

 

“Yoonie.”

 

“Right.”

 

Using the wall for leverage, Jiyong tilts his hips on the next roll, rubbing his cock along the length of Seunghyun’s, moan near silent as he feels the pressure in his gut constrict.

 

“Are you close?”

 

He nods, eyes screwed shut even though he can’t see shit. Seunghyun eases his other hand between them, adding just the right amount of friction with a few short strokes to send him over the edge. Jiyong arches into it, his head hitting the tiles and Seunghyun’s teeth grazing his throat as he comes.

 

All the tension leaves his body in a sluggish wave--arms and legs going limp--and he tries not to slip, a lazy giggle resonating in his chest.

 

“Careful,” Seunghyun laughs.

 

Jiyong slips anyway, fumbling in the dark to switch their positions and knocking over multiple shampoo bottles in the process.

 

“Maybe this was a bad idea.”

 

But he can still feel muted amusement in the shake of Seunghyun’s shoulders. Slowly, Jiyong pushes him into the wall, one of his feet jerking out from under him. Seunghyun loses it.

 

“Stop laughing at me,” Jiyong whines, grinning.

 

Seunghyun just wheezes more.

 

He shuts him up pretty quick though, one hand wrapping around his cock. Jiyong’s mouth collides with a hard chin and then they’re both cackling, faces mashed together while they attempt to stay upright. Jiyong remembers the first time. His heart swells. It’s only been a couple days, but the urge to say those three simple words again washes over him and he blindly claims Seunghyun’s lips, residual vibrations of hilarity making his stomach hurt on top of everything else.

 

“Fuck, I love you.”

 

The width of Seunghyun’s answering smile against his seems to stretch into the infinite.

  
  


*

  
  


As planned, their second excursion to the arcade that night features two special guests: Nora and Hye Yoon, respectively. Though they were both kind of pissed about the delay, especially once Nora found out why. But Jiyong knew she wasn’t really mad. He could tell because she wouldn’t quit smirking and waggling her eyebrows at him suggestively. Well, that, and they were all getting pizza afterwards. Nora can never be upset when there’s pizza. It’s a universal constant.

 

Hye Yoon on the other hand…

 

“You’re all insane,” she states flatly, watching the three of them hurl basketballs at their hoops while trying to sabotage each other, shrieking with laughter.

 

Jiyong’s pretty sure she wasn’t prepared for exactly how ridiculous things were going to get. At least Nora’s used to his rare bursts of competitiveness. It’s just so much worse now, and the only person he can actually fault is Seunghyun for being such a slick bastard.

 

“I can’t believe you beat my high score,” Jiyong complains later, arms crossed tight over his chest. “You must’ve cheated. Cheater.”

 

“How is that fucking cheating? You can’t cheat at Space Invaders,” Seunghyun argues, eyes bright. “And I suck at everything else, let me at least have this.”

 

He shakes his head and sighs. “You destroyed my legacy, Seunghyun. I’m never letting it go.”

 

Approaching with caution, Seunghyun slides his hands up Jiyong’s arms and squeezes his shoulders, head tilted and smile soft.

 

“Would it make you feel better if I let you kick my ass in another round of air hockey?”

 

Jiyong knows that Seunghyun is on the verge of pouting and the edges of his lips twitch as he fights not to smile back. “Maybe,” he concedes.

 

“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow night, anyway,” Seunghyun murmurs, starting to guide him in reverse.

 

Jiyong snorts.

 

“Are you really trying to console me by promising sex?”

 

“Yes.”

 

The smile wins and he curls an arm around Seunghyun’s waist, gaze pointedly dropping to his mouth. “Do continue.”

 

“They’re so…” Hye Yoon trails off.

 

“Gross?” Nora supplies, following behind them.

 

“Yeah, I was gonna say obnoxious, but gross works too.”

 

Jiyong pokes his head around Seunghyun to glare at both of them. “I heard that.”

 

“ _Well_ ,” Nora retorts, eyebrows raised, because she knows Jiyong knows she’s right.

 

Now he’s the one who’s pouting and Seunghyun gathers him up in his arms, lips pressing to his temple.

 

“They’re just jealous,” Seunghyun stage whispers.

 

“I’m not jealous, I’m nauseous,” Hye Yoon corrects, hip cocked against a foosball table. She looks over at Nora and jerks her chin towards the back of the arcade. “Wanna ditch these assholes and go play DDR?”

 

Jiyong watches Nora’s face cycle through about ten different emotions, most of them panicked, before settling on a sorry excuse for Nah, I’m Totally Cool, Man, and eases her hands into her pockets.

 

“Yeah, sure.”

 

Hye Yoon’s grin is nothing short of blinding when she reaches for Nora’s elbow and drags her off without another word.

 

“Your sister is scary,” Jiyong mutters.

 

“Believe me,” Seunghyun drawls. “I know.”

 

Chuckling, he follows them until they disappear behind the bulky rows of ancient arcade games, wondering if Nora will be all right. Not that he thinks Hye Yoon is going to eat her or anything, but he knows his friend and he knows her tells and the crush Nora’s harboring is so very obvious. Which is sort of adorable and just solidifies in his head how unfair Seunghyun and his sister are. _I bet inanimate objects think they’re charming_.

 

Jiyong smiles again, arms curling more completely around Seunghyun’s waist, and he sinks forward to burrow into his chest, stifling a yawn. It’s barely even 9:00pm, but lately it seems like exhaustion is always hovering in the background, waiting to strike at the least convenient times. And it sucks. So much. Because it still feels like time is always running out and he’s left scrambling to hold onto each and every second, no matter how _present_ he is.

 

Seunghyun scratches his fingers through Jiyong’s hair and ducks low to speak into his ear. “What’s up?”

 

“Just tired,” he answers, eyes closing.

 

“We don’t have to play air hockey,” Seunghyun offers. “You can watch me fail at Ms. Pac-Man while we wait for the girls.”

 

He huffs. “Okay.”

 

“Are you still gonna be down for pizza after this?”

 

Jiyong pulls back, brows raised. “How is that even a question?”

 

“Because you look like you’re gonna crash in about ten seconds,” Seunghyun explains, pushing Jiyong’s bangs away from his face.

 

“I’m fine,” he assures with a slight laugh. Though if the petting continues, he might not be so fine, eyelids bobbing as those fingers wander. “Making fun of you will probably wake me right up.”

 

“Then I’ll fail extra hard, just for you.”

 

He bites his lip. “That’s so sweet,” Jiyong coos sarcastically.

 

Seunghyun hauls him into a headlock and he yelps.

 

“C’mon, loser.”

 

“I’m not a loser, you’re a loser,” he grumbles, stumbling alongside.

 

“I swear, you’re the king of comebacks.”

 

Jiyong grins. “It’s why you keep me around, isn’t it?”

 

“Obviously,” Seunghyun replies easily. He lets his arm fall as he moves to stand in front of the arcade console, smirking and feeding the machine a few tokens. “It’s not like you have any other redeeming qualities.”

 

Grin stretching to capacity, Jiyong presses it into Seunghyun’s back, hands resting on his stomach while he listens to the jingly 8-bit game music. Then it’s the warbly noise of dots getting eaten and the knock of the joystick--up, left, up, right, down. He snickers when he hears Seunghyun lose one of his lives shortly after.

 

“How can you be so good at Space Invaders and suck so much at this?”

 

“That’s an excellent question.” Seunghyun’s stomach jumps as he snorts, another ghost gobbling him up. “I don’t know.”

 

“Unsolved mysteries of the universe,” Jiyong intones, moving in to prop his chin on a broad shoulder and watch.

 

The crease of Seunghyun’s smile fades as he gets absorbed in the game, eyes intensely focused, bottom lip caught between his teeth. It’s not a surprise that Jiyong ends up watching him more than the screen, mesmerized by the tiny fluctuations in his expression. He realizes just how cheesy it is that he’s thinking about how much he loves every single one of them. Adores. Cherishes. Wants to bottle up and keep forever.

 

What’s perhaps mildly troubling, is that Jiyong can’t remember ever thinking that he wanted to steal someone’s nose and keep it in his pocket. Or their ears. The wrinkles in their forehead. Even the sigh that escapes from Seunghyun’s mouth when he’s finally out of lives.

 

“Congratulations,” Jiyong quips.

 

Seunghyun laughs and turns, one arm automatically slinging around his shoulders. “Mad skills,” he boasts before quirking an eyebrow. “Pizza?”

 

“Piz--” Jiyong’s reply snags on a huge yawn, face contorting as his jaw pops. “--za.”

 

“It’s officially not my fault if you fall asleep in a pool of grease.”

 

“I think you should be more worried about me drooling on your shoulder.”

 

“Never worried.” Seunghyun shakes his head, already guiding them towards the other side of the arcade, his lips curled in another smirk. “I love it when you drool on me.”

 

There are about a million stupid, cheesy, and sentimental things he could fling back in response, but he doesn’t--heart lodged somewhere in his throat. Because sometimes their moronic banter makes him feel like tearing his hair out in sheer, exultant joy. That, or squish Seunghyun’s face with both hands and tell him to shut the fuck up. It’s usually a 50-50 chance.

 

This time, though, he stays quiet, merely leaning into Seunghyun while they walk together in silence. Jiyong hears Nora’s hyena laughter fill the arcade when they round the corner. Hye Yoon’s, too, her own giggles surprisingly loud. And the sight of their incandescent smiles as they flail around to something disgustingly sweet and definitely Japanese has him wanting to press the pause button all over again.

  
  
  


*

  
  


“Okay, okay, my turn,” Nora mumbles around a mouthful of pepperoni and mozzarella. She swallows audibly, licking her lips with an air of importance. “The Powerpuff Girls versus Batman.”

 

Jiyong almost snorts root beer across the table.

 

“Are you kidding me? The Powerpuff Girls would kick Batman’s ass. Bubbles alone could take him.”

 

“ _Fine_.” Nora crosses her arms, eyes narrowed. “Then how about The Powerpuff Girls versus Dumbledore.”

 

 _Dear god, I will never escape_. In fact, he kind of wants to laugh about it until he cries, but maybe he just needs to accept his fate and move on. There are worse things than being haunted by Harry Potter, anyway.

 

Dusting crumb-covered fingers off on his plate, Jiyong finishes chewing and slouches against the back of the booth, pretending to deliberate. “That’s more of a fair fight,” he admits. “But I still think Bubbles would give him a run for his money. The cuteness is only a cover for how fucking crazy she is.”

 

From the corner of his eye, he notices Seunghyun staring. Hye Yoon seems perplexed by something, judging by how her brows are furrowed and the smile that she can’t hide. And Nora? Well, Nora just looks at him like he’s an idiot. Which is to be expected.

 

“What?” Jiyong asks, turning slowly to meet Seunghyun’s quiet awe.

 

“You are such a nerd.”

 

“Yeah, and?”

 

This is not new information and yet Seunghyun’s expression tells him he may or may not be having some kind of Jiyong-related epiphany.

 

“You already knew that, why are you acting like you’ve suddenly seen my nerd aura?” he asks, nudging him with his elbow.

 

Seunghyun smiles--the kind of smile that Jiyong’s learned to distinguish from all the others (and there are a lot of others) as the one meant exclusively for himself. As the one meant to incapacitate him in all the worst fucking ways. Jiyong stares, because what the hell else is he supposed to do in this situation. But then the smile grows and Seunghyun’s lips part, his voice low and intimate and just like that, there’s no one else in the world but them.

 

“Sometimes I forget how overwhelmingly adorable you are.”

 

His face heats, stomach somersaulting not once, but twice.

 

“Guys…” Nora warns, poking a hole in their bubble.

 

Except he’s sort of in the middle of a staring contest now and he can feel the corners of his mouth stretching as they edge closer together--Seunghyun’s eyes crinkled and a short laugh hiccuping out of him, like he’s well aware of how disgusting they’re being.

 

Jiyong briefly entertains the idea of shoving him away, because his daily quota for rainbow vomit has been filled, thanks. But there’s no reality he can think of where he’d be immune to the way Seunghyun is essentially catapulting glitter from his eyeballs and before he realizes it, their noses are touching and Nora has started whining.

 

“Guys, seriously, don’t--”

 

_Too late._

 

The kiss doesn’t actually last all that long. Just enough to leave Jiyong’s lips tingling and his cheeks warmer than they were before. Though he can tell Seunghyun wants to kiss him again, despite the protesting, and he settles for the press of a broad shoulder against his as they go back to stuffing themselves with pizza like nothing ever happened.

 

“I really hate you,” Nora grumbles.

 

“No you don’t,” Jiyong replies calmly.

 

“Yes. I do.”

 

“Are they like this all the time?” Hye Yoon asks, sharing a strange look with Seunghyun before turning to Nora.

 

“If by ‘this’ you mean their ruthless disregard for my feelings.”

 

“Hey.” He frowns. “I am not ruthless.”

 

Nora jabs her straw into her cup and Jiyong sighs, reaching over with his foot to knock the top of her sneaker. She squints at him, sticks the tip of her tongue out. Her quick smirk says “ _gotcha_ ” and honestly, he should know better than to fall for her bullshit after all these years. Jiyong taps her a bit harder.

 

She just chuckles and continues to devour her final slice, all of them falling into a comfortable silence while they eat. Or would-be silence. He doesn’t have the slightest clue what they’re saying, but the psychic exchange happening between Hye Yoon and Seunghyun is so loud it’s distracting. Even more distracting is the way Hye Yoon cackles when Seunghyun tries to flick her in the forehead and she smacks his hand away.

 

“Stop it, Yoonie,” Seunghyun laughs.

 

“I told you not to call me that.”

 

“But it’s cute,” Nora interjects, grinning at Hye Yoon’s obvious distaste. “I wish my brother would call me cute things.”

 

“It gets old real fast.”

 

Putting his cup down, Seunghyun sighs, seriousness ruined by the perpetual twitching of his lips.

 

“She pretends not to love me, but underneath her cruel exterior lies the sweet, gelatinous heart of a giant gummy bear.”

 

Hye Yoon scoffs and pops the collar of her jean jacket. “Shut up, I got a rep to protect.”

 

Jiyong doesn’t exactly choke on his food as he snorts out a laugh, but it’s close.

 

“Do I even wanna know why you can quote Grease 2?”

 

“Mmm, probably not.”

 

“Okay then.”

 

“That movie is criminally underrated,” Nora mumbles, popping a bit of crust into her mouth.

 

“You’re only saying that because you have the hots for Michelle Pfeiffer,” he replies.

 

“I can’t help it, she was a massive babe in the eighties.”

 

Hye Yoon clears her throat. “Like in The Witches of Eastwick.”

 

Jiyong swears Nora’s face is doing that human light bulb thing again as she turns to Hye Yoon and beams.

 

“Or Married to the Mob,” she adds, shifting from light bulb to supernova in a matter of seconds. “Last year for Halloween I went as Angela de Marco, but no one got it, because everyone is terrible.”

 

“I like her,” Hye Yoon announces, pointing at Nora but looking at them.

 

It’s a legit miracle that his best friend’s eyes don’t pop out of her damn skull in shock and Jiyong makes a mental note to tease Nora later about how fiercely she blushes into her soda when she catches him smirking. He even waggles his eyebrows a little, which she counters by nailing him in the shin.

 

“ _Fuck_ , Nora.” Doubled over and rubbing his leg, he thinks he might actually know a thing or two about what it’s like to have a sibling.

 

Seunghyun leans into him. “You okay?”

 

“Yup,” Jiyong grunts. “Just plotting murder.”

 

“It wasn’t that hard. Man up, Ji.”

 

“Tell that to my shin.”

“Sorry,” Nora apologizes, even though he’s pretty sure she doesn’t mean it. “My foot slipped.”

 

He releases an amused huff and welcomes the comforting arm that wraps around his shoulders.

 

“They sound like us,” Seunghyun murmurs wryly, sharing a weird look with his sister again, both of them smiling tiny, secretive smiles.

 

Jiyong finds himself wondering if he’ll ever be able to decipher their private language. If he’ll be a part of their lives long enough to cultivate that kind of familiarity. The kind that comes with learning what’s on Hye Yoon’s mind when she studies him intently and doesn’t know he’s paying attention. The kind that means receiving one of her unexpectedly affectionate and rarely given smirks, and he’s surprised by how much he wants that.

 

It wasn’t meant to be a depressing thought, but Jiyong ends up feeling weighed down by it anyway, and he spaces out for a minute while everyone else keeps talking. A tendril of doubt creeps in. He thinks about time. Seunghyun’s fingers slide along his arm to take his hand and squeeze gently, the rumble of his voice never pausing. Then he hears Nora laugh at something Hye Yoon says, her foot tentatively reaching out again to rub against his calf and Jiyong grins, because maybe he really is an idiot.

 

“Who wants the rest of my pizza bones?” he asks when there’s a lull, grounding himself back in the present.

 

“Oooh, me, me,” Nora blurts. She snatches the rejected crusts and starts dipping them into the remains of their marinara sauce.

 

Hye Yoon quirks an eyebrow, clearly amused but trying not to be. “Pizza...bones?”

 

“Neither of you have heard that before?” Jiyong glances back and forth from Hye Yoon to Seunghyun, receiving two mildly bewildered head shakes.

 

“What planet did you two come from?” Hye Yoon asks.

 

“Kashyyyk,” he deadpans without missing a beat, and Nora, beautifully flawless human that she is, starts making Chewbacca noises until they can’t keep it together anymore--almost sliding under the table with the weight of their shared laughter.

 

Their stupidity is so worth it, though. Because Hye Yoon’s incredulous smile is big and gorgeous and Seunghyun is cracking up right along with them. Jiyong always knew there would be a perfect moment for that.

 

He’s just happy it was here and now.

  


*

  
  
  
  


Half an hour later they’re back at Seunghyun’s, Nora having bid them goodnight and driven herself home. Exhaustion still tugs at Jiyong’s brain, but he doesn’t feel like going to bed yet. None of them do, apparently. And the apartment stays quiet even after they’ve kicked their shoes off, the kitchen acting as the sole source of light. Seunghyun plops onto the couch and turns the TV on, flipping channels on mute. Jiyong watches from the hall as Hye Yoon migrates out to the balcony and lights a cigarette. He decides to follow, letting his fingers sift through Seunghyun’s hair on his way, because he thinks stealing a few more moments with her while he can is probably a good idea.

 

Hye Yoon offers him a half-smile when he shuts the glass and leans on the railing beside her.

 

“Thanks, by the way,” she murmurs after a beat, taking a drag. Jiyong’s brow furrows and before he can even open his mouth, she continues, humor in her voice. “For making me come with you guys tonight. I forgot how nice it was to hang out and do stupid shit.”

 

“Oh. No problem,” he grins, ducking his head. “That’s kind of our M.O.”

 

She snorts softly and Jiyong notices her lingering smile as she brings the cigarette to her lips again, staring down at the street. He lets his focus wander, too--listens to the murmur of the television when Seunghyun finally finds something he likes; watches cars pass in and out of view through the trees. The urge to say something sits heavy on his tongue, but he can’t form the words, something about being alone like this with Hye Yoon making him nervous.

 

Luckily, she saves him the trouble of being the most awkward turtle.

 

“Are you looking forward to going back?” Hye Yoon asks.

 

Jiyong turns to face her. “To school? Not really,” he admits, oddly okay with this being the current topic of conversation. “I miss my friends, but that’s pretty much it.”

 

“Sounds about right,” she murmurs wryly.

 

He sighs. “It’s not that it’s...bad. I just haven’t figured out what the point is yet.”

 

“There isn’t one,” Hye Yoon replies easily. “And as someone who’s been where you are right now, I have some totally unsolicited advice.”

 

Laughing, Jiyong nods. “Okay.”

 

“Don’t take it so seriously.” She flicks ash into the air, briefly gnawing on her lip before her gaze find his. “You’re only nineteen once, what’s the rush?”

 

“Technically I’ll be twenty in two weeks.”

 

“Excuse me,” Hye Yoon says with a wry smirk. “Twenty only happens once, too.”

 

Jiyong rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning. Which is new, given the subject, because every other time he’s talked about this shit with anyone else, he always feels like he’s on trial. Hye Yoon is different. Jiyong appreciates that.

 

“I get what you’re saying,” he sighs, leaning his full weight against the railing, arms hanging limp in the air. “And serious or not, it doesn’t change the fact that I have no idea what happens next.”

 

“Me either. So why not enjoy the ride?” Hye Yoon asks. She takes another pull from her cigarette. “I mean, isn’t it better to be happy instead of stressed out all the damn time?”

 

“ _Are_ you happy?” Jiyong counters. After all he’s seen in the last few days, he’d be hard-pressed to categorize the woman as anything even close to “happy”.

 

But she just shrugs and looks away, voice gentle when she answers. “Right now, I’m pretty close, yeah. It could change tomorrow and knowing me, it probably will, but that’s life. I don’t need to think about it yet.”

 

A knot begins to form between his eyebrows as he tentatively keeps pushing, watching her closely.

 

“What about everything that happened before?”

 

“It happened. I got upset. Mostly because I’m kind of tired of the world fucking me over every chance it gets.” Hye Yoon breathes out a bitter-sounding laugh as she shakes her head, a hardness in her eyes that wasn’t there before. “All I can do is keep trying, though. Let everything be what it wants to be and find the spaces where I fit.” She sighs, adding softly, “ _If_ I fit.”

 

In that moment, Jiyong regrets ever having a single bad thought about Hye Yoon. Not out of pity, but out of a shared sense of displacement. Because he knows what it’s like to feel lost when the rest of the world seems to be in on a secret you’ve never been able to uncover. And he may never know the full extent of the bullshit she’s had to deal with, but he sympathizes.

 

“Can I…” Jiyong starts, hesitating slightly as he angles closer. “Can I ask why you came here?”

 

Hye Yoon offers him an oddly fond smile and takes one last drag from her cigarette before tossing it out onto the street below.

 

“Because Seunghyun is the only one who understands where I’m coming from. He always sets me right again once I’ve gone off the rails.” She smiles again, this one a little on the somber side. “I might be the oldest, but honestly, I’d be lost without him.”

 

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly. He can sympathize with that, too.

 

“Also, I just want you to know that the only reason I’m telling you any of this is because I like you so much.”

 

Another round of laughter bubbles up in his chest at her dry tone, the warmth of it unexpected but more than welcome. “I like you, too.”

 

“Good,” Hye Yoon states with finality. “I admit I was still a little worried I’d messed that part up.”

 

His lips twitch at the corners. “Nope.”

 

“Because I really--” she cuts herself off, turning her whole body to face him and fingers nervously fidgeting. “I really do hope this thing works out, y’know? The long distance thing.”

 

Jiyong can’t help it when his throat goes tight and he nods, gripping the railing a bit harder.

 

“Same.” Which is the understatement of the century.

 

“He’s not usually like this,” Hye Yoon barrels on, weirdly anxious, and he wonders if he’s catching a glimpse of the Hye Yoon without all of her walls up.

 

“Or at least I’ve never seen him like this with the other guys he’s dated. And I know I don’t know you all that well and that you two are honeymooning like nobody’s business, but what I’m trying to say is that you’re good together. Even though you’re both so sweet I wanna blow my brains out.”

 

“Thanks?” he chuckles.

 

The burst of honesty has kind of left him at a loss for better words and Hye Yoon grins briefly, exhaling heavily and laughing with him--like she’d been holding onto it all night and was just waiting for the right time to let it go. Jiyong thinks there’s more to say here, but he’s satisfied with the almost terrifying certainty that he’ll have plenty of chances in the future. _Our future_ , his brain unhelpfully supplies, and now he’s pretty sure his entire face is red.

 

A loud squeak over glass jerks them both out of their huddle and he turns around, finding Seunghyun pressed up against the door--palms resting on its surface and mouth wide open, his pink lips smushed, cheeks puffed out and eyebrows raised high.

 

“You sure this is what you want?” Hye Yoon asks, humor still laced in her sardonic tone as she gestures to her idiot brother.

 

Jiyong giggles at Seunghyun blowing a particularly messy raspberry against the glass and drops his burning face into his hands.

 

“Unfortunately, yes,” he whines.

 

And when he peeks up through his fingers, said idiot is drawing lopsided hearts on the door with his breath, beaming like a loon.

 

Hye Yoon scoffs in mock disdain. Jiyong just stands there and lets himself fall that much further.

  
  


*

  


A week passes and Jiyong barely notices. He’s undecided on whether he should be happy or pissed off that he’s distracted enough not to. And not bad distracted, either, just...preoccupied? Because if he’s not marinating in the memory of Hye Yoon’s sobering words on the balcony, he’s with Seunghyun, and when he’s with Seunghyun everything else gets completely shoved aside. Of course it does. And that’s okay. He has totally come to terms with the fact that he’s participating in a new and improved version of Not Quite Dealing With His Problems. It’s a flawed system, he realizes, but for the time being it’s working and he isn’t about to fuck with that. He’s got like, 15 days left and he swears he’s going to pretend he can keep his shit together until he’s on that stupid train.

 

The thing about pretending, Jiyong learns, is that it only gets him so far.

 

“Do you want anything while I’m up?” Seunghyun calls from the kitchen.

 

“Nah, I’m stuffed,” he calls back, already flopped over on the couch because he feels like a beached whale after inhaling one too many dumplings.

 

Seunghyun returns a moment later, popping the rest of a spring roll into his mouth and licking his fingers clean.

 

“How can you still be eating?” Jiyong mumbles, getting nauseous just thinking about more food.

 

“I’m a growing boy.”

 

He snorts inelegantly and Seunghyun grins before practically sitting on top of him, forcing Jiyong deeper into the cushions, and he lets out an unholy groan.

 

“ _Ohmygod, don’t_.”

 

“But you’re so squishy,” Seunghyun laughs.

 

“Do you _want_ me to puke all over you?”

 

“Mmm, not really.”

 

Digging his fingers into Seunghyun’s armpit earns him a bright cackle, the uncomfortable weight of Seunghyun’s body disappearing as he twists and flails and ends up on the floor in a panting heap. Jiyong gingerly rolls over to peer down at the asshole, eyes narrowed.

 

“That’s what you get, jerk,” he mutters, reaching out to poke him in the side for good measure.

 

Except when he tries to pull his arm away, Seunghyun latches onto it using both hands--a wicked tilt to his smile that should have been ample warning--and yanks Jiyong so hard he squawks and goes tumbling to his doom.

 

“I swear to god you have a death wish,” Jiyong grumbles miserably into Seunghyun’s neck.

 

“Only sometimes.”

 

He emits a weak chuckle, the sloshing of his stomach beginning to calm as Seunghyun rubs at his back in long, slow strokes, eventually dipping under his shirt, skin warm. The television hums above them, whatever mindless sitcom they were watching now forgotten. Jiyong’s fingers find their way into Seunghyun’s hair and he’s just about to doze off when the rumbling beneath him guides him back.

 

“Jiyong?”

 

“Nnnh.”

 

“Have you thought about what you wanna do for your birthday?” Seunghyun asks, his body shifting slightly, and then the light of the TV disappears, leaving them bathed in quiet and the orange streetlamp glow.

 

Honestly, his birthday isn’t exactly #1 on his list of things to worry about. He remembers making a bigger deal out of it in the past, but, needless to say, things have changed.

 

“Something that doesn’t involve spending money?” Jiyong offers since he has nothing else.

 

“Because that definitely narrows it down,” Seunghyun drawls.

 

“Shut up.” He smiles, adjusting his cheek against Seunghyun’s shoulder. “My parents’ll probably take us out to dinner.”

 

The hand on his back becomes two and Jiyong feels his eyelids start drooping again.

 

“Yeah, but what do _you_ want?”

 

He decides that’s one hell of a question, opting not to answer it immediately, and counts each steady rise and fall of the chest beneath his, floating somewhere safe between asleep and awake.

 

“Dunno,” he sighs after reaching the count of twenty. Though he could say a lot of things.

 

_More time with you? To never go back to school? Fulfill my childhood dream of becoming a dinosaur? To stay here on the floor in a food coma forever?_

 

Seunghyun rubs circles into Jiyong’s ribs with his thumbs and doesn’t push the issue, only tells him, “Think about it.”

 

He nods. “I will.”

 

For a number of minutes Jiyong can’t keep track of, neither of them speak. He doesn’t think about anything, for once. Only the solid heat of Seunghyun and how comfortable he is. His tired brain is clearly being too nice to him.

 

“C’mon, we should get up,” Seunghyun murmurs and Jiyong makes an unintelligible noise in protest as he maneuvers them into a sitting position.

 

“You’ll have to carry me, I can’t move,” he moans.

 

“Poor baby.” Seunghyun’s amused grin is difficult to miss even in the half-light. As is his exaggerated pout when he lifts his hands to cup Jiyong’s face. “Do you need me to wipe your ass for you, too?”

 

With a sharp laugh, Jiyong smacks Seunghyun in the arm. “Fuck off,” he rasps, voice having turned rough around the edges.

 

Gentle fingers stroke over his cheeks and trace the line of his jaw and Jiyong feels his smile soften, his own hands bunching in the fabric of Seunghyun’s shirt. He leans into the caresses, letting his eyelids almost close, but not quite. He’s too caught up in the way Seunghyun looks like this--half bathed in shadow, the rest like he’d been carved from amber. The light catches his left eye; makes it gleam, sunshine over wet earth. Jiyong’s breath snags in his throat and he sways forward without thinking, pulling Seunghyun in at the same time until their lips meet.

 

It’s not the most blatantly passionate kiss in the history of kisses, but Jiyong is pretty confident that the quiet intensity behind it comes across crystal clear. Especially when Seunghyun responds by grasping the back of his head to keep him in place as he wreaks havoc on Jiyong’s everything, teasing his mouth with lazy swipes of tongue.

 

Heat pools easily in the pit of his stomach--Seunghyun forever the spark and Jiyong the kindling. But he knows they’re both too tired for more, content to just have this.

 

“I’m suddenly regretting eating my weight in Chinese food,” Jiyong half-whispers against Seunghyun’s lips, aimlessly stroking the hard muscles beneath his palms.

 

Smirking, Seunghyun nudges at his cheek. “You’d pass out as soon as you hit the bed.”

 

“Mm-mmm.” He shakes his head, rolling his hips slowly in emphasis. “I like sleepy sex.”

 

“Do you now?” Seunghyun asks with obvious interest. Like the tent he’s pitching in his pants wasn’t obvious enough.

 

Jiyong just laughs and presses closer for another kiss, arms draping over his shoulders.

 

“Wish you’d mentioned this earlier,” Seunghyun adds.

 

Eyes still shut, he huffs and locks their foreheads together, his knees squeezing a little tighter around Seunghyun’s hips. Most of the time Jiyong forgets that they’re still learning about each other and that they don’t, in fact, have years of familiarity under their belts. Because most of the time it seems like Life Before Seunghyun is a distant, faded memory instead of nearly 3 months ago.

 

“Well, we’ve got two weeks to make up for it,” Jiyong says, voice hushed, not wanting to draw any more attention than necessary to his inevitable departure date.

 

Seunghyun noses even closer. “Is that a challenge?”

 

He can feel the spread of Seunghyun’s lips on his skin and he chuckles, “Like you need an excuse.”

 

“Challenge definitely accepted.”

 

Their joint laughter follows them into the bathroom, elbows purposely knocking together where they stand side by side at the sink. But Jiyong shrieks when Seunghyun threatens to kiss him with his foamy toothpaste mouth and goes running through the apartment, dodging plant children on his way to the bedroom only to be snatched up at the last minute and unceremoniously thrown onto the mattress. His full stomach sloshes and he groans.

 

“You’re so mean to me,” Jiyong whines.

 

All he gets is a quirked eyebrow as Seunghyun slips his t-shirt off, baring all that gorgeous, tanned skin, his pants added to the pile without care. Jiyong can’t help but stare openly. _So, so fucking mean._ He saunters over and reaches out to undo Jiyong’s belt.

 

“You were saying?” Seunghyun murmurs, tugging Jiyong’s jeans from his legs.

 

His shirt goes next and Jiyong barely has to move throughout any of it.

 

“I take it back, you’re the bestest boyfriend in the whole wide world,” he deadpans. “You deserve a medal for your noble service. Ten medals. And a statue.”

 

Drawing them both under the blankets, Seunghyun sighs theatrically, turning the light off and shifting until he’s curled around Jiyong from behind, their fingers laced together. Jiyong beams briefly. He loves being the little spoon.

 

“A sta-tue,” Seunghyun fumbles through a yawn.

 

Half-asleep already, he keeps babbling. “Mmm,” he hums in agreement. “You’d give David a run for his money...even with your clothes on...but I think I’d be okay with you naked...no fig leaves either because your co--”

 

“ _Jiyong_.”

 

“What, ’m just being honest.”

 

Seunghyun laughs and it’s more movement than sound. “Go to sleep.”

 

“You need to up your pillow talk game,” Jiyong mutters.

 

And the last thing he hears before conking the fuck out is a barely there “I love you, you idiot” that coats the back of his neck in warmth.

  
  
  


*

  
  


His brain must have some kind of stress quota it needs to fill that Jiyong hasn’t been delivering, because he wakes up in the middle of the night to pee--electric blue numbers telling him it’s almost 3am--and finds that he can’t fall asleep again. He tries. Desperately. Counts his breath so he doesn’t think about anything else, except the trick doesn’t work and he’s left staring at the ceiling, painfully alert and mind whirring.

 

_How many days has it been since I checked my savings account? 5? I still have to deposit that paycheck too, shit. Shit. It’s probably not enough and I only have one more coming. I need to sign up for my classes tomorrow. I need to buy books. I need to call Felix. When does my train leave? I don’t even remember. Fuck. Okay. Calm down…_

 

_...1...2...3...4...5...6…_

 

_But I should probably get a part-time job this semester. Shouldn’t I? I definitely should. I’m not gonna make it otherwise. How much was my last paycheck? I need my phone, where the fuck did I put my--_

 

Jiyong’s up and out of bed before he can even finish having the thought, abandoning the cocoon of blankets and Seunghyun’s warmth to pad out into the living room and then into the kitchen, flipping on the light above the stove. His phone is plugged in on the counter where he left it, but his backpack is….

 

He turns around in a circle until he spots it in the dim light underneath the coffee table and rushes to open it, blindly snatching the envelope he stuffed in there yesterday before returning to the kitchen. Jiyong hoists himself onto the counter and grabs his phone, thumb tapping in his password without even looking as he rips the envelope open with his teeth at the same time. It takes him all of 30 seconds to pull up his bank info, only setting the phone down long enough to liberate his paycheck. He releases an unsteady sigh.

 

 _Fucking taxes_.

 

The number glaring back at him isn’t as high as he hoped it would be, just shy of $500 for the last 2 weeks. He shouldn’t have asked for that day off. He should have taken the hours Zach didn’t want. He should be asking for as many double shifts as he’s legally allowed and then maybe bribing Ed into giving him more under the table. _Jesus._

 

Glancing at his savings account, he realizes that it’s barely grown at all, and that’s the moment it all comes crashing down on him like a physical thing.

 

“It” being reality and the fact that there isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that he can pay for school on his own on top of living expenses and maybe, possibly, occasionally feeding himself. “It” being no bars, no parties, no going out for burritos in the middle of the night. Maybe Felix and Annie will let him live in one of their closets and toss him scraps of pizza under the door whenever they feel like it.

 

_I am so stupid._

 

Jiyong lets the crisp, folded piece of paper drop to the floor and draws his legs up to his chest, burying his face in his knees. What was he _thinking_? That this summer would just magically be the answer to everything? Life doesn’t fucking work that way. But he hadn’t been thinking at all, not really. Not where it counts.

 

_Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid…_

 

He’s so dedicated to proclaiming his own incompetence to himself that he doesn’t hear Seunghyun until he’s calling his name softly from the doorway. Jiyong’s head jerks up and it must be written all over his face, all these things he’s feeling, or not feeling, because Seunghyun doesn’t even say anything, just shuffles over and cradles Jiyong’s face in his big, beautiful hands and frowns.

 

“Hey,” he breathes, thumbs collecting tears Jiyong didn’t even know he’d been crying. “What’s going on?”

 

There’s such a massive knot of anxiety and frustration in his throat that he can’t speak and, really, the overwhelming concern pouring out of Seunghyun right now isn’t helping. Neither is his, quite frankly, offensive bedhead and Jiyong goes for option #2 by silently lowering his legs and smashing his face into Seunghyun’s also rather offensive chest. Automatically, Seunghyun wraps his arms around him and holds him close, massaging the hairs at the nape of his neck. It’s clear he wants to do more but has no idea what Jiyong needs and it doesn’t take long for him to try again.

 

“You’re kinda scaring me a little bit, Ji.”

 

“Sorry,” he mutters, sniffling.

 

Seunghyun eases him back carefully, both hands still pressed against his neck, eyes bright with worry. “I’d like to help if you’re willing to talk. Even just to get whatever it is off your mind.”

 

Jiyong takes a deep breath. Part of him doesn’t want to drag Seunghyun into this any more than he already has. The other part thinks he should probably tell him everything instead of dancing around it like he usually does. Gaze slanting away in embarrassment, he shrugs.

 

“You’re gonna think I’m pathetic.”

 

“Pretty sure I’d never think that,” Seunghyun replies. He ducks his head; tentative smile curling at the corners of his mouth. “C’mon. Talk to me. Please?”

 

 _Might as well_. Jiyong reaches up and takes Seunghyun’s hands, huffing out an approximation of a laugh when Seunghyun squeezes a few times in wordless encouragement. He can’t force himself to look, though, not yet. So he keeps staring at their fingers instead and clears his throat.

 

“Um...you already know I’ve been sort of a nutcase about paying for school myself. But you don’t know the whole story,” Jiyong opens.

 

“There’s a story?”

 

Seunghyun actually sounds _eager_ and he snorts, sparing him a glance.

 

“Yeah. Don’t get too excited,” he murmurs wryly.

 

Adjusting his grip on their fingers, he closes his eyes and debates how to go about this. After several beats and the constant slide of Seunghyun’s thumb over his knuckles, he decides, _fuck it_ , and just starts talking.

 

“I guess I should start by saying that my parents weren’t always well off. We weren’t destitute, or anything, but we felt it some months more than others.” Jiyong lets out a tense sigh. “I just remember my mom and dad trying so hard to make it seem otherwise. Like we were totally fine and weren’t struggling to make car payments or taking out a 2nd mortgage on the house. I mean, I was a kid, I didn’t understand half of what that shit meant anyway, just that they were working their asses off to stay afloat. To _provide_ for me. Then, when I was about 11 or 12, my grandfather passed away on my dad’s side and literally everything changed. It was like flipping a fucking switch. One day we were not-quite-poor and the next we had more money than we knew what to do with.”

 

Jiyong shifts on the counter, his feet brushing against Seunghyun’s legs, and he finally lifts his head. He doesn’t know if he’s surprised or not that he isn’t being stared at with pity or judgment--supposes he shouldn’t be, not really. What he _does_ know, is that he’s grateful for the way Seunghyun exudes calm affection even in this, eyes soft with a dawning comprehension that doesn’t make his skin crawl like it has in the past.

 

He sighs again and keeps going.

 

“Long story short, I got left a small inheritance that became mine when I was 18. I had no idea what else to spend it on, so I figured why not college. Only problem is that literally no one can afford it anymore and the money he gave me doesn’t cover more than the first 2 years. I can’t take loans out because my parents earn too much now and they still claim me on their taxes. Most scholarships aren’t for rich kids who don’t want their parents’ money,” Jiyong explains, laughing at himself. “And even if I did qualify for any of the more random ones, it wouldn’t be enough. I--”

 

“Don’t yell at me, but explain to me again why you can’t ask your parents for help?” Seunghyun interrupts.

 

“Because it was my stupid fucking decision and they’ve already done their part.” His shoulders hunch even further. “I’m almost 20, it’s not their responsibility anymore.”

 

“And you’re having a meltdown in my kitchen because after this year, you won’t be able to pay for school anymore.”

 

Jiyong nods once. Seunghyun arches an eyebrow.

 

“Except you kind of hate it and have no clue what you’re doing.”

 

“My life, in a nutshell,” he offers, lips twisting ever so slightly.

 

Squeezing his hands again, Seunghyun goes silent for a long while, his concentration devoted entirely to their fingers before he straightens with a sigh of his own. Jiyong has a sneaking suspicion this is going to make him cry.

 

“I have two things I’d like to say,” Seunghyun begins, tone as gentle as they come and gaze never wavering. “The first, is that needing or asking for help doesn’t make you weak. Or incapable. It doesn’t mean you’ve failed. Especially not when you have people in your life who love you like your parents do.”

 

The “like I do” is silent, but Jiyong hears it loud and clear, his throat going tight when he tries to swallow down a lump of feelings.

 

“And especially when shouldering that kind of weight results in you crying alone in my kitchen at 3 in the morning,” Seunghyun continues, humor dancing in his eyes now on top of the rest. “But just because you think you need to do this alone doesn’t mean you should. You have an amazing support system, Jiyong. We want you to be happy and we’re not gonna stand back and watch you suffer for no reason.”

 

His face is so goddamned _earnest_ that Jiyong couldn’t stop the burn of tears even if he’d tried. _The worst_ , he thinks. _You’re the actual worst._ Seunghyun drives this home by leaning in to kiss Jiyong’s forehead with a tenderness he’ll probably never deserve.

 

“Second,” Seunghyun soldiers on, preventing him from responding just yet, “and this is more of a suggestion than anything, but...maybe you could finish your sophomore year and take a break after?”

 

“What?” Jiyong blurts intelligently. He frowns, lifting a hand to wipe at his wet nose. “Why would th--”

 

“No, hey, just hear me out,” Seunghyun insists. He takes Jiyong by the shoulders now, determination written across his brow. “I know what I went through isn’t the same for everyone, but let me assure you that I wouldn’t wish a business degree on anyone who didn’t really want it. I almost gave up more times than I can count, except my dad made it pretty clear that if I didn’t do it his way, I’d be cut off.” Seunghyun pauses to wave Jiyong’s obvious shock away. “Don’t ask, he’s fucking crazy. Anyway, my point is that I basically stumbled into the thing I love by accident and it had jack shit to do with my GPA or the little piece of paper that said I’d been through 4 years of hell and paid an obscene amount of money for the pleasure. I was lucky. So goddamned lucky. Because the thought of resigning myself to a life behind a desk working for smug, superficial assholes was worse than death. Still is. Something tells me you don’t want that either.”

 

He shakes his head, mouth twitching. “No.”

 

“Didn’t think so.” Seunghyun grins briefly. “Which brings me back to my proposition. Finish the year, take time off for yourself, figure out what you want from the world and then go from there.”

 

There’s such easy conviction in those words. Like just because Seunghyun believes in them, they must be true. Jiyong wants to believe right along with him, but the idea of untethering himself from everything-- _of letting go_ \--is so overwhelming and, quite honestly, scary as fuck.

 

It hits him then that this is probably what Hye Yoon was talking about that night on the balcony. How Seunghyun always sets her right again when she can’t see clearly enough to steer herself. Jiyong’s chest starts to hurt from the enormity of his gratitude for this stupidly perfect asshole who will always be too good for him.

 

“You make it sound so simple,” he mumbles.

 

“It’s not,” Seunghyun tells him point blank. “I mean, it took me until earlier this year to admit to myself what I really wanted to do with my life.”

 

Jiyong manages a tiny smirk. “Let me guess, it has something to do with plants.”

 

“Funny.” Seunghyun shoves him lightly before letting his hands drop to rest on Jiyong’s thighs, gaze lowering, shy. Like this is the first time he’s admitting a secret. “But yeah. I, um...I decided that my business degree wasn’t entirely useless after all. Because one day, god knows when, I’d like to start my own nursery. Or possibly my own florist shop. I dunno, it’s all a mess in my head at the moment.” He blows out a huge breath and laughs quietly. “Guess I kinda owe my old man a thank you for that, don’t I?”

 

“Guess so.”

 

Reaching up, Jiyong slips his fingers into Seunghyun’s hair, pushing it away from his pink-tinged face. He shouldn’t be embarrassed for wanting something so absurdly adorable. Jiyong can already picture it--Seunghyun in his apron, dirt under his nails, radiating goodness and stealing the heart of every customer with his dimples and perpetual, boyish charm. He almost tells him this, but then Seunghyun is looking at him with that earnest expression again and the words dissolve on his tongue.

 

“Jiyong…”

 

“Mmm,” he hums, not trusting his voice, and keeps petting Seunghyun’s hair to distract himself from what he knows is coming.

 

“I just want to make it perfectly clear that I’m here for you in all the ways that I can be. Regardless of what you decide,” Seunghyun murmurs. “No one worth anything is going to think any less of you for taking a different path than the one we’ve been force fed since birth, okay? It’s your life. Make it mean something to you. Something that doesn’t come from anyone else.”

 

“You’re unbelievable,” Jiyong states, because if he doesn’t say _something_ he’s going to start bawling.

 

Seunghyun’s eyebrows shoot up. “What?”

 

“Everything. You’re just--” He groans, exasperated, burying his face in his hands.

 

He’s starting to believe he didn’t just save a planet in a past life, that it was more like an entire fucking universe. _Two_ universes. _God_. But instead of backing down from this, instead of skirting the obvious--that Seunghyun has just shown him kindness in ways he’s never experienced--he bites the bullet and doesn’t fight. His hands fall. There are unshed tears in his eyes but he doesn’t care. Jiyong chews on his lip and releases a watery chuckle, pulling Seunghyun in all the way until there’s no space left between them, just skin and heat and a sense of belonging.

 

“Thank you,” Jiyong whispers into his neck. He hopes it sounds as sincere as it feels.

 

Seunghyun holds onto him tighter than before, fiercely, like he’s planning on never giving up a single centimeter. “You’re welcome,” he whispers back.

 

And if Jiyong notices the uneven hitch in his breathing, he doesn’t say anything.

  
  


*

  
  


In light of everything that had happened over the course of the last few weeks, Jiyong is almost afraid to tempt the universe by asking for anything else. Though technically he didn’t _ask_ for The Choi Sibling’s Guide to Getting Your Shit Together or the resulting emotional hangover. Still. It seems like a blessing to be on the receiving end of their friendship or love or whatever the fuck you want to call it. And as he sits at a table in his favorite sushi restaurant, surrounded by his parents and Nora and Seunghyun, he marvels at how he ever got to be so lucky in the first place.

 

It’s his birthday and, contrary to every other year he’d celebrated the anniversary of his existence, Jiyong doesn’t need more than this. Because it’s already more than enough. Because there are days when he feels like what he already has will be taken away if he keeps asking. It’s ridiculous, yeah. But, in his defense, he _is_ kind of having a hard time coming to terms with this summer. With life in general and with letting go of more than just the fear of being himself. There’s a lot he has to think about. Jiyong supposes he’s got a lot of time to do it in, too.

 

His dad and Nora are cackling about something he missed, too lost in his own head to be paying much attention, but it still makes him smile as he pops the last piece of sushi into his mouth, just happy that they’re enjoying themselves. It’s been so long since they did anything like this. And with a single week remaining before he goes back to school, he feels a stab of regret for not being with them more often.

 

“Do you want more?” Seunghyun asks, nudging him with his elbow.

 

“You’re not gonna finish that? What happened to being a growing boy?”

 

Seunghyun shrugs. “You’ve been feeding me for weeks, I wanted to return the favor.”

 

“I wasn’t aware you were footing the bill,” Jiyong remarks dryly.

 

“Just humor me, asshole.”

 

He snorts, leaning over to eat the offered piece of nigiri directly from Seunghyun’s chopsticks, smiling obnoxiously while he chews. Seunghyun shakes his head and tries to hide his amused grin, but it’s no use. Then, like the five year old that he really is, Jiyong turns to him and opens his mouth, waiting. The way those dark eyes light up with laughter is worth every second of stupidity.

 

“Oh, you two are just the cutest,” Soo Jin practically squeals from the other side of the table. “I have to take a picture.”

 

“ _Mommm_ ,” Jiyong whines, turning to pout at her.

 

“Sweetie, I know it’s your birthday, but let me have this.”

 

His father is chuckling, sitting there all relaxed like humiliating him is their favorite pastime. Which, in hindsight, is probably not that far from the truth, and Jiyong’s blushing well before his mom can finish setting up her camera, glare firmly in place as she gestures for them to get on with it.

 

Sushi poised in the air in front of Jiyong’s face, Seunghyun hiccups out another laugh, tipping closer, voice pitched low so no one else can hear. “I’d make airplane noises, but I don’t think that’s appropriate given the situation.”

 

Jiyong crumples forward to lean against Seunghyun’s shoulder, he’s laughing so hard.

 

“Definitely no airplane noises in front of my parents,” he wheezes.

 

“Later, then,” Seunghyun promises.

 

And the way they’re staring at each other, still trying not to laugh too much when they pose for the picture, is probably too gross for words, because Nora’s rolling her eyes and his mom looks like she’s about to start crying.

 

“Gotta say, I’m not gonna miss this.”

 

Jiyong tsks at Nora. “Liar.”

 

“Heartless Prince of Darkness,” she counters.

 

“I know all your secrets, Nora.”

 

It takes ten seconds of them mock-glaring each other down for her to deflate and slouch back against her chair.

 

“ _All right_ , fine, maybe I’ll miss it a teeny tiny bit,” Nora mutters, arms crossed.

 

Soo Jin watches them with a fond smile on her face, lips stretching a bit wider when Jiyong returns it bashfully.

 

“Let’s get a picture of the three of you, too,” she suggests, way more excited than she should be about all of this.

 

“Here we go,” Jiyong sighs. “It’ll never end now.”

 

“Be nice, Jiyong,” Young Hwan chides.

 

“I’m always nice.”

 

“Ha!” Nora barks as she gets up to stand. “And I’m the liar. Your new name should be Pinocchio.”

 

Jiyong pouts again. “Do I have to remind everyone that it’s my birthday? You’re not allowed to be mean to me.”

 

“Suck it up, Kwon. It’s called tough love for a reason,” she replies and unceremoniously climbs across Jiyong’s lap to sit on both him and Seunghyun, each leg hooked over one of theirs.

 

She throws her arms around them and Seunghyun doesn’t even hesitate to curl his around her waist, already beaming. Jiyong’s heart skips at that--feels the weight of affection in his chest that he’s still getting used to when he thinks about how effortlessly Seunghyun made a home for himself, here in their weird little clan. Almost like there had been a space waiting to be filled only by him.

 

Nora jostles him to get his attention and he tamps down on the urge to be maudlin in the midst of so much easy joy.

 

“Smile!” his mom sing-songs.

 

Jiyong kisses Nora’s cheek at the last minute, her shriek of surprised delight making his toes curl with glee.

  
  
  


*

  
  


After Jiyong’s said his goodnights and promised his parents that he’ll come hang out one more time before he leaves, Seunghyun drives them home.

 

_Home._

 

Is it dumb that he thinks of this jungle apartment as home? Because he lived in that castle of a house for 6 years and it never felt like this. Like there were actually pieces of himself there that he could recognize--tangible and intangible both. His clothes scattered around Seunghyun’s closet and dresser, a second toothbrush in the bathroom, leftover food in the fridge from the dinner he made a couple nights ago. His scent mingled with Seunghyun’s on the bed and the couch and the t-shirts they keep stealing from each other. Even Seunghyun’s Netflix account has been altered by Jiyong’s, obviously far superior, taste in movies.

 

This last thought has him grinning as they walk up the stairs, hand in hand. It’s all so disgustingly normal that he dreads the first day he’ll wake up without it.

 

“Hurry up, I wanna give you your presents,” Seunghyun says, tugging on his hand.

 

“Did I just hear presents, as in plural?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“Seunghyun,” Jiyong protests.

 

“Don’t even think about fighting this.” Seunghyun tosses him a pointed look after he locks the door behind them. “You got me shit for absolutely no reason, I can get you something for your goddamn birthday.”

 

“Sir, yes sir,” he replies, giving him a sharp salute.

 

Narrowing his eyes, Seunghyun pushes him through the hallway, turning on the lights and forcing him to sit at the workbench against the far wall of the living room.

 

“Enough of your sass.”

 

Jiyong chuckles, sitting patiently while Seunghyun disappears into the bedroom. He has literally no guesses as to what his presents could be, which makes it more exciting, even though he thinks it’s unnecessary. Jiyong’s parents got him some books. Nora gave him frozen yogurt coupons and all three seasons of Star Trek: The Original Series because she knows just how to give him a giant nerd boner. It probably cost more than he wants to think about, but he’s still thankful. More or less. He’ll get there at some point.

 

Seunghyun returns then and he actually seems nervous, which in turn makes _him_ nervous, so now he’s feeling more apprehensive than excited. What could be in the small brown box Seunghyun sets on the table that has him fidgeting like this? That has his mouth all twitchy and a blush coloring his cheeks, struggling to find words and maintain eye contact.

 

“Uh, so, this is the first one?” Seunghyun eventually speaks, pointing at the box. “I found it a couple weeks ago. Yoonie actually helped me decide,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “Initially I wasn’t sure if you’d think it was too much or that I was crazy, but I figured you’d like it, or at least I really hope you will, otherwise I can take it back, I mean--”

 

“Wow, chill,” Jiyong stops him, latching onto one of his flying hands and holding it still. He’s never seen Seunghyun this flustered before.

 

“Sorry.” Seunghyun heaves a calming breath. “Just, um...just open it so I can stop feeling like I’m gonna lose my mind.”

 

“Okay,” he laughs, catching the way Seunghyun keeps gnawing on his lip, and chooses to put him out of his misery.

 

Releasing his hand, Jiyong slides the red bow from around the box and eases the lid off. Silver glints amongst puffs of white cotton. His mouth immediately goes dry. _Is that…?_ Cautiously, he picks it up and lets it rest in his palm, eyes glued to the delicate ring--two silver leaves curved in on one another to make the band. _Holy mother of crap._

 

Jiyong swears his heart stops more than once, tripping over itself to work properly. He exhales roughly and finally looks up at Seunghyun, hating that his expression verges on terrified, and he jolts up from his seat to shove him against the table and kiss the everloving shit out of him.

 

 _Stupid boy_ , Jiyong thinks. _Stupid, beautiful, perfect boy._

 

It takes Seunghyun a second to respond, hands digging into Jiyong’s back when he does, drawing him in, kisses hard and deep and equally bruising. Jiyong moans loudly and has to steady himself on Seunghyun’s shoulders it’s so intense, the ring clenched tight in his fist. And for a long moment, all he can get his brain to focus on is this. The scrape of Seunghyun’s teeth, the slide of his tongue, the way his entire body pulses with satisfaction. But once he remembers the silver ring still pinching his skin, he has to reel himself in.

 

Breaking apart with a gasp, mouth throbbing, Jiyong can’t help but pant out another dizzy laugh and blurt, “You’re so annoying.”

 

“I’m...what? Why?” Seunghyun mumbles. He’s wearing a dopey smile, brows furrowing in his puppy dog confusion.

 

“Because this is gorgeous and I don’t des--”

 

“Stop. Just stop,” Seunghyun urges quietly and reaches for the hand gripping the ring, forcing Jiyong’s fingers to unfurl. “You _do_ deserve it,” he insists. “You deserve a lot of things. And I just-- I thought, maybe, if you had something to remind you of that, it would make it easier.”

 

It’s Jiyong’s turn to be confused. He thinks he might know, but he wants to hear it and be sure.

 

“Make what easier?”

 

The smile returns to Seunghyun’s face. Softer. He plucks the ring from Jiyong’s palm and slips it onto his right thumb. It’s a perfect fit.

 

“Time. Distance. Finding the courage to say yes to what makes you happy.”

 

Peering up at Seunghyun, he feels his mouth fall open to speak, except nothing comes. What can he possibly say to that? He’s not even sure there _are_ words that can articulate what he’d want to tell him, anyway. So Jiyong stands there gaping like a fish and Seunghyun smiles wider, using his other hand to tilt Jiyong’s chin up, and brushes a gentle kiss against his lips. It’s more than enough for now.

 

“Do you want the other half of your present?” Seunghyun asks.

 

“I don’t know if I can handle any more,” he answers honestly. He feels dazed.

 

Rumbling out a laugh, Seunghyun starts to guide him backwards. “I think you’ll survive this.”

 

Jiyong has his doubts, to be perfectly fucking honest, but he lets himself be maneuvered into the kitchen--closing his eyes when Seunghyun instructs him to. He hears the fridge open and then a lighter flick. _Did you buy me a fucking cake?_

 

“Okay, you can open them.”

 

Yes. Yes he did.

 

Momentarily dazzled by the glow of the candles in the dark, Jiyong doesn’t move at first, too busy trying not to drown in this endless ocean of feelings. It’s not that elaborate of a cake, from what he can see. Just a single round tier covered in chocolate frosting. Except when he inches closer, he can make out the image of exploding fireworks done in silver and gold icing, the words “Forever is composed of nows” written underneath the sparks in elegant, looped cursive.

 

“Emily Dickinson?” Jiyong grins. “God, you really are annoying. Are you sure you’re human? Or have you been my robot boyfriend this whole time?”

 

Seunghyun pokes him in the stomach and then grabs him around the neck to muss up his hair. “You got a problem with me making an effort? Because I can stop doing that.”

 

He giggles brightly; wraps both arms around Seunghyun’s waist.

 

“Don’t stop,” Jiyong mumbles into his chest.

 

“Come on, blow out your candles. I’ve been trying not to eat this thing all day.”

 

“So noble.”

 

“You have no idea.”

 

With a fond snort, he shakes his head and moves back to the counter, beaming down at what is easily the coolest cake he’s ever received in all his 20 years. Seunghyun curls his arms around him from behind, pecking him on the cheek and whispering, “Make a wish.”

 

It gives him pause, though, as he stares into the flickering candles. Because what do you wish for when you already have everything you want?

 

Well, actually….

 

Jiyong breathes in and leans forward. _I wish I was a dinosaur._ He blows out the candles, cracking up so much that it takes him a few attempts to get all of them.

 

“I’m not even gonna ask,” Seunghyun states, amusement laced in his tone.

 

“Good.” He swipes a finger over the side of the cake and sucks it into his mouth. “If I told you I’d have to kill you.”

 

This, apparently, means it’s open season, because suddenly Seunghyun has a fork in his hand and is taking a bite so big Jiyong isn’t entirely sure it’ll fit in his mouth. But it does, miraculously. And now his boyfriend looks like an overgrown chipmunk.

 

“So…” Seunghyun swallows and licks his lips, already going for another bite. “How does it feel to not be a teenager anymore?”

 

It’s a no brainer. Jiyong steals the fork to take a bite for himself, rich chocolatey goodness melting on his tongue. “Exactly the same,” he responds with a shrug.

 

Seunghyun nods in agreement.

 

“Yeah, I still feel like I’m twelve.”

 

“Because you _are_ twelve,” Jiyong drawls, popping more cake into his mouth.

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

He should’ve known he’d get this kind of reaction and he can’t not laugh at the face Seunghyun is making, like he could ever really be threatening. But then Seunghyun reaches for the cake, taking a huge chunk out of it with his bare hand, and Jiyong steps back. He knows where this is going.

 

“Don’t you dare,” he warns.

 

Seunghyun’s mouth twists into one of his wicked grins--the kind that only ever spells trouble, the kind that leads to him herding Jiyong into the corner where he can’t escape and mashing the handful of sticky cake directly into his mouth. Or sort of directly, a lot of it ends up smeared on his cheeks because Seunghyun has gorilla hands and they’re both giggling too much for accuracy.

 

Jiyong chews aggressively. “You’re dead.”

 

“Do your worst,” Seunghyun taunts.

 

Lunging for the cake, he grabs whatever he can and smacks it into the side of Seunghyun’s head, rubbing it in with a chocolate-stained smile. Seunghyun groans. They can’t see perfectly in the half-dark, the light from the living room only doing so much to help, but at this point they’re pretty much just flinging globs of icing at each other. It gets in his hair and leaves streaks on his clothes, splatting on the cabinets when they miss. They keep it up until the cake itself has been decimated and they’re just a mess of gooey fingers smearing frosting against each other’s faces. It’s amazing. And really dumb, because cleanup is going to be a bitch, but he feels like he’s high and he’s covered in chocolate and everything is wonderful.

 

Then Jiyong slips on the floor, foot jerking out from under him and he sinks to his knees, nearly hyperventilating with laughter. Seunghyun follows, bringing them both down in a heap of limbs as they struggle to catch their breath. He throws his arms haphazardly around Seunghyun where he’s snuggled into the crook of his neck, every part of him buzzing pleasantly and his mind is free of worry. So Jiyong lets his eyes drift shut, coiling his arms tighter, noting how the ring on his thumb catches the fabric of Seunghyun’s shirt. The refrigerator hums next to their heads. Warm lips seek out the skin underneath his jaw. He sighs.

 

“God, I’m gonna miss you so much,” Seunghyun murmurs a few beats later, voice unexpectedly thick.

 

It’s the first time he’s said anything like this, always being the wise, level headed voice of reason whenever Jiyong starts getting overly emotional. It never occurred to him that Seunghyun might’ve been holding back. He frowns, threading sugary fingers into dark hair as he turns, pressing his face against Seunghyun’s.

 

“We’re gonna be okay,” he whispers.

 

“You promise?” Seunghyun asks. He sounds so weirdly vulnerable that it makes Jiyong’s throat constrict.

 

“Yeah, I promise.”

 

Because Jiyong believes it now. Believes in his bones that this isn’t the end of anything, it’s only just the beginning, and he finds Seunghyun’s hand to clasp it in his own, holding it tight to his chest so he knows. So he feels the way his heart is beating strong and sure and without a single shred of doubt.

  
  


*

  
  


The final week of his summer is a combination of wading through sand and then watching that sand slip through his fingers. Slow, fast, slow, fast. There’s no inbetween. Jiyong has lunch with his parents and it’s over in a blink. He goes to work and he swears all the clocks stop the instant he walks through the door. Seunghyun takes him back to Franklin Park and it’s like they’re getting into the car again when they’d only just arrived a few minutes ago, the position of the sun the only proof that they were there for any length of time at all.

 

The one reason he’s not legitimately complaining, is that when they have sex (as often as humanly possible), time pauses just enough to let him savor it.

 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jiyong whines, cheek mashed against the pillow. “Right there.”

 

He’s got his ass in the air, spine curved _just so_ and knees spread wide while Seunghyun pounds into him from behind. He may or may not be seeing stars, the pleasure centers in his brain lit up like a fucking pinball machine. And it only gets worse--better?--when Seunghyun slows down, dragging their climax out and letting his cock slide lazily inside of him.

 

Fingers gripping Jiyong’s hips, Seunghyun guides him back with every thrust forward until he’s clawing at the sheets, hanging right there at the edge for what seems like forever, sweat beading along every inch of skin.

 

“Please,” he begs.

 

“You wanna come?”

 

Jiyond nods vigorously, jaw cracking open on a low moan when Seunghyun bottoms out and grinds against his ass.

 

“You first, though,” Jiyong adds, eyes squeezed shut in an effort not to start humping the damn bed.

 

“Seriously?”

 

He can practically hear how high those eyebrows are raised.

 

“Yes, seriously.” _God._

 

“Can do,” Seunghyun pants, dropping wet kisses on his shoulder before leaning away.

 

It’s not exactly easy to prepare himself for the way Seunghyun’s body slams into his--thrusts precise and shallow and delicious. Jiyong enjoys it as much as he can without letting go, because he won’t, not yet. He has plans. Doesn’t stop him from writhing wantonly on the bed, though, peering at Seunghyun over his shoulder with hooded lids and lip caught snugly between his teeth. Should he feel bad for manipulating his boyfriend? Because he really, really, doesn’t. Especially when Seunghyun groans his name and loses rhythm, hips snapping forward a handful of times as he comes, no doubt leaving finger-shaped bruises on Jiyong’s skin in the process.

 

A tremor winds through him, cock hanging heavy and thick between his legs. Seunghyun pulls out and collapses on the mattress with a grunt, Jiyong moving on shaky arms to curl up against his side. It takes an obscene amount of effort not to start humping his leg, either, but he manages.

 

Offering a sated grin, Seunghyun rolls them over. “What do you want?”

 

He smiles and threads his fingers into the damp strands of Seunghyun’s hair, gaze catching on the still-new glint of silver on his thumb, and his heart skips a beat.

 

“Your hand,” he answers simply.

 

Like the mind-reader that he is, Seunghyun doesn’t go straight for his dick--palm cupping Jiyong’s cheek first as he ducks down for a kiss and takes it slow. His stomach clenches in anticipation once that hand begins to travel, though, arching into the gentle, teasing touch that drifts lower along his chest. Jiyong nips at Seunghyun’s lips and teases right back; sucks lightly on the soft flesh and chases after his tongue. He’s so devoted to this that the moment Seunghyun actually does wrap his fingers around Jiyong’s cock, he lets out the single most embarrassing sound. Not like his boyfriend isn’t used to it by now. Seunghyun knows Jiyong is a needy little bitch and he strokes his cock in earnest, no more teasing.

 

Hips bucking unevenly, Jiyong breathes affirmations into Seunghyun’s mouth, trying to concentrate on how the rough callouses on that hand feel gliding up and down his shaft--how they rub against the head and drag over ever more sensitive skin.

 

Jiyong’s orgasm takes him by surprise, which isn’t a surprise at all, because sex with Seunghyun is always some kind of sensory overload and he actually prefers it when he can’t see it coming. So he lays there and shudders and lets Seunghyun kiss him harder, coaxing him through it until the very end.

 

They never talk about how little time they actually have left anymore. Particularly not like this, when they’re both fucked out and boneless and happy. The last thing Jiyong wants to think about is not having this in less than 3 days. Any of it.

 

“Let me know when you’re ready for round two,” he slurs, cuddling up to Seunghyun and eyes already closed.

 

Seunghyun gives a tired laugh and brushes sweat-drenched bangs from Jiyong’s forehead.

 

“Aye aye, cap’n.”

  


*

  
  


He gets texts all weekend from Annie and Felix, each of them expressing in their own unique way how excited they are to see him again.

 

_Istg I’m gonna dickpunch_   
_you if you don’t come here_   
_straight from the train  
station :)_

 

 _Heyyy, no punching  
_ _of dicks allowed_

 

_Felix is already testing me_   
_I need your buffer  
powers, stat._

 

          _It’s not my fault you_  
 _assholes chose to live  
          t ogether, okay_

 

_Don’t act like you’re_   
_not gonna be over here_   
_every single day, kwon.  
I know you_

 

 _Then why am I paying  
_ _for school housing?_

 

_Bc you’re an idiot <3 _

  
  


 

 

 _Guess what I just put  
_ _in our fridge?_

 

 _EMPANADAAAAAS  
_ _BITCH_

 

 _And they’re all yours (for  
_ _a small fee)_

 

_Pray tell, what is this fee?_

 

 _You owe me so many  
_ _details, punk._

 

 _Actually, I don’t owe you  
_ _shit._

 

 _One empanada for every  
_ _question answered._

_  
Deal or no deal?_

 

_…...deal_

 

_You’re so easy._

 

_I know :’(_

  


*

  


Monday rears its ugly ass head and Jiyong pretends he isn’t silently losing his shit. He leaves tomorrow. _Tomorrow_ , for fuck’s sake. How did he ever think he was ready for this?

 

“Do you have everything, sweetheart?” his mom calls from the bottom of the stairs.

 

“Yeah,” he shouts back, hands shaking slightly as he zips his suitcase closed and glances around the room he no longer thinks of as his own.

 

 _Everything except for what matters most_.

 

Sighing, he lugs his bags into the hallway and waddles down the stairs. Soo Jin takes one look at him and pulls him in for a bear hug before he can finish setting his stuff down.

 

“Seems like it was just yesterday that we were picking you up from the station,” she comments, sounding teary-eyed already.

 

Jiyong nods, withdrawing from her crushing grip. “Time flies.”

 

The tilt of her mouth is sad and he clears his throat in an attempt to avoid any more heartfelt words of wisdom being dumped all over him.

 

“Seunghyun should be here in a few minutes.”

 

He goes to lift his bags again, but his mom being his mom, he doesn’t get the chance, her hands attaching themselves to his cheeks. Jiyong feels himself frown. If she makes him cry he’s going to...be really mad about it. Or something.

 

“I’m really glad you came back,” Soo Jin tells him, tilting forward to kiss the bridge of his nose. “And no matter what happens, we’re always here for you.”

 

“I know. Thank you.” He tries to give her a smile in return, knowing full well that she’s not saying all that she wants to say. “I’ll call when I get to New York.”

 

She sniffs and steps back just as a car honks outside. “You’d better.”

 

Jiyong laughs. “I promise.”

 

In the car, Seunghyun takes hold of his hand and doesn’t let go until they park in front of his apartment building.

  
  


*

  


That night, Nora comes over for dinner. They order from their favorite pizza place and play Scrabble in the middle of the living room floor. With her radiant, bubbly laughter ringing in his ears, it’s easy to forget that tomorrow is D-Day, and he welcomes the distraction from thinking about having to say goodbye.

 

What it doesn’t distract him from, however, is the unavoidable truth of how much love he has in his heart for the two morons sitting on either side of him. Jiyong feels like he’s been on the brink of tears for days, like the tiniest thing is going to set him off, and he’s not even startled when the telltale sting picks up somewhere in the midst of their bickering over whether or not “goonies” is a valid Scrabble word.

 

“The internet doesn’t lie!” Nora exclaims, phone held high above her head.

 

“But it’s the name of a movie, that doesn’t fucking count,” Seunghyun argues, grinning. “And the internet is full of lies, don’t even.”

 

“It’s also a bird, jackass. Brush up on your ornithology.”

 

Seunghyun throws his head back and cackles, scrubbing a hand over his face in affectionate frustration.

 

“Okay, fine. Take it. 16 points to the cheater.”

 

Nora gasps. “You dick! I am so not a cheater.”

 

“If you play any more bird-related words tonight, I’m throwing you out,” Seunghyun threatens, shit-eating grin still tugging at his lips as he points at her.

 

“Jiyong, would you please tell your boyfriend he’s being an unreasonable, bird-hating douchebag.”

 

Blinking away the burn in his eyes, he puts both hands up and shakes his head.

 

“Hey, don’t drag me into this. I’m not taking sides.”

 

Seunghyun’s shoulders shake as he tips over onto his elbow, clearly very entertained by Nora’s feigned huff of annoyance and the way she crosses her arms tightly over her chest. It’s his turn now, but he can’t concentrate, staring at the tiles but not really seeing them. He feels something nudge at his knee and he looks up. Seunghyun quirks an eyebrow. “ _You okay?_ ” is the question asked without speaking. Jiyong’s mouth slants into a half smile, hand curling around Seunghyun’s foot and giving it a little squeeze. It’s the best he can do, given the circumstances.

 

“If you two are done communicating telepathically, I’d like to finish this game before I turn 30,” Nora butts in.

 

He rolls his eyes and flips her off.

 

“What did I say about birds?” Seunghyun snorts, like he can’t believe he actually made a joke about that.

 

“Are you the bird nazi now?” Jiyong shoots back. “If I knew this is what I was signing up for, I never would’ve bothered.”

 

“Not true. I’m irresistable.”

 

“I swear to god if this leads to the two of you making out, I’m breaking up with both of you.”

 

Jiyong hides a broad smile behind his palm and stares at his tiles intently, ignoring the way his ribcage feels fit to bursting. The constant press of Seunghyun’s foot against his thigh makes it worse, especially when he wiggles his toes, and Jiyong thwacks him playfully before tossing “peony” onto the board.

 

The rest of the evening passes without incident. Nora’s staying the night so she can come with them bright and early to the train station and Seunghyun sets her up on the couch with a pillow and a blanket. He even drops a kiss to the top of her head when he bids her goodnight and Jiyong thinks his heart may actually liquefy long before he makes it back to New York City.

 

Pulling his shirt off once they’re in the bedroom with the door closed, he tosses it in the general direction of his bags, jeans suffering the same fate. Then he plops down on the edge of the bed and waits for Seunghyun, who wastes no time in pinning Jiyong against the sheets, knees bracketing his narrow hips.

 

“You really like her, don’t you,” Jiyong murmurs.

 

Seunghyun nods and smiles, almost shy. “Yeah, I do.”

 

“She’d never say it, but she thinks you’re pretty amazing,” he confesses on Nora’s behalf.

 

“Wonder who gave her that idea,” Seunghyun remarks wryly and smirks as he slots their mouths together.

 

Jiyong huffs, breaking the kiss to smack his lips loudly against Seunghyun’s cheek.

 

“It definitely wasn’t me.”

 

“Must be my other perfectly ridiculous yet endearing boyfriend.”

 

“Must be,” Jiyong agrees, all too happy when Seunghyun starts kissing him again.

 

Neither of them have any illusions of sleeping tonight. He’s already certain that he won’t, knowing himself too well. And Jiyong never worried about Seunghyun feeling the same, not after he stuck to Jiyong all night like super glue. As if he was afraid he’d vanish too soon if he wasn’t careful. Jiyong would’ve laughed about it if he hadn’t been doing the same for the same reasons and he does his best not to let the kiss turn desperate--like he’s already saying goodbye.

 

At some point they actually do make it underneath the covers, laying there in dim light, lacking the courage to speak just yet. He’s already plastered against Seunghyun barnacle style, but every few minutes he tries to snuggle closer. Because maybe he missed a spot where there was still space left. Because he has weeks and weeks of sleeping solo ahead of him and he’s allowed to be greedy.

 

Around midnight, Seunghyun clears his throat. “You’ve got your laptop, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Then we can Skype whenever you want.”

 

“Okay,” Jiyong replies, voice small, not really interested in thinking about all of this at the moment. But Seunghyun continues regardless.

 

“What time do you get in tomorrow?”

 

“Around 6,” he mumbles.

 

“You’ll call me, yeah? I mean, you can call me any time, I just want--”

 

Jiyong snorts, cutting him off, and has to grin. He lifts his head to look down at him. “You’re acting like I won’t be texting you every five minutes from the moment I leave.”

 

Seunghyun grins back. “Make it two and a half minutes.”

 

“Two and a half minutes it is.”

 

The weighted silence hovers over them and Jiyong huffs awkwardly, averting his eyes. Even now doesn’t feel like the right time to vomit his feelings everywhere, but it’s like he has an itch in his throat that won’t go away. Burying his face in Seunghyun’s neck, he sighs and bites the bullet.

 

“When, um...when do you think you’ll be able to visit?” he asks, almost wishing he could suck the words back into his mouth.

 

Seunghyun strokes his hair and lets out a sigh of his own.

 

“I’d have to look at our fall schedule. But I can probably get some time off in October.”

 

 _October._ It seems so far away. It’s not. Not really. But he thinks he’s entitled to be a little dramatic about it.

 

“I hate this.” Jiyong announces.

 

Long arms settle tightly around him, soft lips grazing his temple.

 

“I know.”

  
  


*

  


Early morning sun beats down on his face, more cheerful than it has any right to be. He’s a fucking Disney princess, right? Shouldn’t it be raining? Dark storm clouds paralleling the darkness in his heart. God, he wants to punch himself. And Felix. Definitely Felix.

 

“What time is it?”

 

“7:36,” Nora intones. “Exactly three minutes later than when you asked the last time.”

 

Jiyong scowls and goes limp in Seunghyun’s hold, head lolling on his shoulder. They’re both leaning on his car in the train station parking lot--Jiyong irritable and antsy and Seunghyun oddly stoic. The coffee they got earlier sits weird in his stomach. He thinks he might puke for real, he’s so anxious. Anxious and impatient as hell, because he hates waiting for things he doesn’t want, especially when it’s one of those things that sluggishly crawls its way towards you. Kind of like if a snail was the harbinger of death.

 

“Relax,” Seunghyun murmurs calmly into his ear, one hand rubbing soothing circles against Jiyong’s stomach.

 

“I don’t think I can,” he almost whines.

 

“You’re fine.” Seunghyun’s hand stops at his chest and presses him close. “You’re the one who said we’d be okay, remember? You promised.”

 

“I remember.”

 

It wasn’t bullshit, Jiyong really meant it when he said that. But he’s just really bad at this whole zen thing, especially in the face of the inevitable.

 

“7:45,” Nora informs them, and he knows he’s not imagining the grim note in her voice.

 

As if on cue, the distant rumble of the train filters through the trees. Jiyong breathes deeply and reaches for Seunghyun’s hand, linking their fingers.

 

“We should probably go wait on the platform.”

 

So they do--Nora and Seunghyun standing on either side of him, bags at his feet. He bounces on his toes and stares blankly at the track in front of him instead of watching the train gradually make its way into the station. He can do this. It’s not hard. And it’s not permanent, because as much as Jiyong currently feels otherwise, this is not actually the train to hell.

 

“Hey.” Nora nudges him. “You gonna hug me or what?”

 

He laughs perhaps a bit too loud, shuffling around to draw her in nice and snug.

 

She sighs happily. “You better come back next summer or I’m putting a bounty on your head.”

 

“You’ll see me at Christmas, dumbass,” Jiyong chuckles.

 

Nora shrugs. “Yeah, but it’s not the same.”

 

“I’ll be here.” He pulls back to squeeze her arms. “Don’t worry.”

 

His ribs are starting to hurt again as he studies her, suddenly hit with a tidal wave of affection. It must show on his face, because her eyes bug out and she waves her hands in the air.

 

“Nuh-uh, stop whatever you’re doing in that gross brain of yours.” Nora takes a step back. “I’m not stoned enough for squishy, heartfelt goodbyes, okay?”

 

Jiyong bends forward and pecks her on the cheek anyway, pleased with the way she wipes at her face to hide her blush. Then she punches him. Hard.

 

“Ow! _Fuck_.”

 

“You’re such a jerk,” she grumbles.

 

His mouth falls open as he rubs his abused shoulder. “You just hit me!”

 

“Go make out with your boyfriend before I do it again.”

 

He hears Seunghyun’s low, gravelly laughter behind him and his stomach swoops violently, the train lumbering into the station as he turns around. Jiyong forces his legs to move until there’s less than an inch of space between them, but he freezes there. _This is it_ , he thinks. _This is all I get for the next six weeks. At least._ He reminds himself to breathe. Because Seunghyun is staring at him with that stupidly tender look in his eyes and he knows the words that want to come out of that mouth, but he won’t let them.

 

Grabbing Seunghyun’s hand, Jiyong shakes his head. “Don’t,” he pleads quietly. “Just don’t.”

 

Thick brows come together in a knot.  “Why?”

 

“Because if you say it, I won’t be able to get on that train.”

 

Seunghyun nods his understanding, fidgeting with Jiyong’s fingers. They gaze at each other for a long minute, the noises of the train station swelling and fading around them. He curls his other hand around Seunghyun’s neck before they run out of time for good and rocks up onto his toes, channeling the entire mess of his feelings into this single point of contact. It’s not passionate, it’s not frantic, it’s not even all that sexy--it’s just a promise. Because Jiyong keeps all of his promises.

 

Pulling away is one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do and he clenches Seunghyun’s hand tightly one more time, then lets it drop. He attempts a smile, but he’s pretty sure he fails spectacularly. His insides feel like they’re eroding.

 

“I, um, I should--” he jerks a thumb in the direction of the train, most of the passengers are already seated.

 

Another silent nod from Seunghyun. Jiyong wants to kiss him again. To latch on and never fucking let go. Instead, he takes his backpack and his suitcase and he bravely walks to the closest car, climbing up the steps without having a heart attack, and finds an empty seat by the windows. He’s barely got his ass on the fake leather when his phone starts vibrating in his pocket. Jiyong pulls it out; sees Seunghyun’s goofy fucking face pop up on the screen.

 

“Hey,” Seunghyun speaks first.

 

He laughs, pulse hammering wildly as he peers out the window. “Hey.”

 

Seunghyun’s sad, dark eyes are dancing.

 

“I love you.”

 

“You’re an asshole,” Jiyong scoffs, biting into his lip. “But I love you, too.”

 

The smile he gets in response is heartbreakingly beautiful.

 

“Nora and I are gonna go cry into some froyo.” Seunghyun throws his arm around her and she pretends to weep against his chest. “Text me later?”

 

He swallows roughly. “You know I will.”

 

When the train lurches and begins to move, there’s a brief flash of panic on Seunghyun’s face, and he steps away from Nora to follow, keeping Jiyong in view. His next laugh sounds more like a sob as he watches Seunghyun start to jog, but the train is too fast and then there’s no more platform to chase.

 

Jiyong lets his phone fall into his lap, pressing his forehead against the cool glass. Now would probably be a good time to cry, right? He’s got 10 hours of travel ahead of him, he might as well get the first batch over with. So he does. He cries. He’s not embarrassed. He’s just really worn out, and right now at 8:00 in the morning on Tuesday, August 26th, 2014, he wants to fucking cry. Silently, but so hard his whole body shakes--big, fat tears rolling down his face and dripping from his chin.

 

The thing is, he’s not actually all that sad. Because he remembers making this same journey just 3 months ago. Remembers how much he didn’t want to go, how he thought it was going to be a gigantic waste of time.

 

_Little did I know…_

 

He coughs out a wet laugh and brushes the moisture from his skin, watching his world race by. His world that has been so thoroughly tilted on its axis he doesn’t know his ass from his elbow anymore, all thanks to one person. One boy who he loves with parts of himself he didn’t even know he had. _Seunghyun._

 

Across from him, a middle-aged woman with blonde hair and a kind face gives him a sympathetic smile, hand outstretched with a much-needed tissue. Jiyong takes it gratefully and blows his nose.

 

“You all right, sweetheart?” she asks.

 

Jiyong grins, cheeks hurting with the force of it.

 

“Yeah,” he answers, looking her right in the eye as he laughs again. “Never been better.”

 

And it’s so painfully true, that the admission has an intense rush of relief flooding through him, to the point that it leaves him dizzy and overjoyed and at peace. Because his future is a blank canvas begging to be written on and, honestly, Jiyong can’t wait to find some fucking paint.

 

 

 

a/n: reference for the ring: [right here](http://cdn.notonthehighstreet.com/system/product_images/images/001/190/594/original_unisex-silver-leaf-ring.jpg)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is not the end. i repeat, not the end. as you can see, there are still two chapters left. please bear with with me.


End file.
